Promiseth Poem by Vince Benedict Tanjay Vince

Doth the stars promise to each other?
A quite quaint gage whose nev'r leaveth to one another?
Doth the did stray birds yearn for the nature's embrace?
A sorrowful yearning whose only longs to beest interlaced

Whilst i did hold ev'ry honey word of thy promises
where, our promises turneth into life's bitt'rness
Oh, thy sharp words striketh mine own beating heart
Wherefore mine own heart diced and wounded in ev'ry part

Has't thy promises did turn into mere air?
Has't thy quite quaint words did remain unclear?
Art thee still mine own guiding star who is't shines in the night?
Art thee still mine own luna, who is't gives me the lighteth?

Prithee heareth mine own feelings, which I encave in a broken chest
Prithee keepeth thy ears ope so i can rest
Or shall thee not cease thy exsufflicate words?
For shall thee putteth mine own soul on the dim roads?

My precious are thee did bury thy words in the grave
At which hour my soul is tired of being brave
And thee depart'd of thy loving presence from me
Who is't am i to thee?

Oh sword of thy words pierced mine own heart to bleed
Where I bethought thy words were mine own did wind's aid
Oh, thy deceiving words, I'm so fool'd
Oh mine own precious, thy gage i shall nay longeth'r hold

O mine own mesm'rizing fallen star
I promiseth to thee from afar
thee shall nay longeth'r feeleth mine own annoyance
Liketh a fallen star who is't hast embraced a fading presence.