Jethro Kisakye Mark Poems

Oh, fairest tongue, thou has departed hence,
Leaving mine heart in sorrow's great expense
A plague upon thy silence, say I
That hath bereft me of thy sweet reply
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I write to bleed ink
To scribble my soul onto paper
To stir what's deepest
And to awaken the dead
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While the night is dark, the day is darker
Horror seems pleasant, solace seems sad
Time, dearest time, what are you?
A companion of agony or joy?
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