The Unjust Of The Soul Poem by Garner Stockton

The Unjust Of The Soul



I fear the worse
I hear the Hearse
I see the nurse
I'm in this Clockwork Universe
Nowhere to rehearse
I am a purse
Waiting to be snatched
From its semidetached husk
Dusk has set in, wild wind
The sun dimmed, poached like an elephant-tusk
My soul throws a fuss
It's hard as coal
Like I'm in a theatrical role
However, I am not in control
Fool, my life is a cesspool
I am on this spherule
But where is the vestibule
I see, out at sea, tears freed
Embodied in greed, the seed
Unable to be agueweed
I fear the worse
My mind is terse
However, I have much to do
Do not look blue

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