Dante's Poet Laureate - Poem by Mad Gone
If I were a poet my voice could be the breeze,
Or the gentle whisper of the leaves of trees.
But alas I know that I am not
And this is all I’ve fear I’ve got.
What would I say to touch your heart?
For I know silently we will surely part.
To say how much you mean
Or how I would gladly make you king.
To rule my heart you need not crowned
And certainly you need never to have frowned.
For it is yours and only yours to command,
Or to let slip through your hands, as tiny grains of sand.
The butterflies no longer flutter
But dance unkindly around and cruelly mutter.
With things now said to make us less vulnerable
The wall now built, with dry cement is non-refundable.
I see something in your eyes
You make to speak, could I be surprised.
But, the words we want to speak
Are lost within the breeze, for they are so very weak.
The vows were spoken with great pride,
When I became your young blushing bride.
With youthful zeal I soundly committed,
But with sorrowful eyes they now will be acquitted.
Half of this, half of that, is that yours or mine?
That young flourishing love has now truly lost its shine.
That part of life, of me, will fade, wither and now die,
Rebuilding life, a brand new start, God curse this sorry lie.
If I were a poet then how I would have said,
How the golden dawn, and breaking of the morn fills my heart with dread.
Abandoned, soul, faint heart, all life for surely it will drain.
I am damned to ever stand in misery of unrelenting rain.
Two roads now converse and I wonder which to travel,
The undergrowth still fresh or the one with new laid gravel.
But I fear my shoes had no more wear,
I was glad I chose not to travel there.
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