Depeche Poem by JAY WALK

DEPECHE

Fear not, dear friend;
This whim of yours and mine:
Is like every creation, in the end,
a slave to sands of time.
The only thing you must expect,
in these surreal dark times,
is patience for yourself and respect;
That helps develop your primes!

A cold city man is alluring:
His face stoic like snow;
Yet his curse, his mooring,
his Past, who has his deepest bow.

His body and will described
with metal themed attributes,
His opportunities circumscribed
by demons playing his parachutes.

A doubt is only natural,
Your words may seem to play.
However, know that nothing is factual
Till the end of God's day.

Fear not, my friend!
What's the worst to come?
Man has always had, and will need an amend,
It's no shame to succumb.

I can only hope for your peace,
For I am unable to fly over:
To negotiate with Aries;
Gift you a Four-leaved clover.

So I write poems with all my might;
Hope that you can be your own armoury,
Dedicated to friends like you
with poems,
the unsung heroes of history.


Jay_Walk