It was never friendship.
That is one ship I did not sail with you on board,
Therefore for it to hit the rock, and be wrecked,
Is irrational, as what is not born, cannot be dead.
I called it love, perhaps it wasn't, it was lust,
A flame mis understood, but was burning since trust,
Solitary fire, shameless in its desire.
When Vesuvius erupted, did it seek permissions?
Sit for cross examinations?
What is natural, obeys no laws made by mans cranial carbuncle.
It blooms, burst, does not wish to hurt, scald, kill or maim,
To rip away time, and send its plume in the spring of all minds,
Remains the only unconscious Aim.
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