My Absinth problem

My absinth problem

I’ve been rumored to dream,

Of a thing with wings that seem,

Rightly a dream or an imagined ray or beam.

I’ve been rumored to dream of angels.

I’ve been humored to live,

As is and should be a life,

Composed and made for eyes to believe,

A facade devoid of all strife.

I’ve been humored to live a dream.

I’ve been rumored and humored.

But hey,

The stripes and scars I have,

Aren’t medals I stacked up for grace;

The manners I learned not to have;

The challenges I learned not to face;

The love I fancied never to share;

And only felt it fair,

To have less to my heart,

And as such more for my skin and mind to bare.

A heartless hound…


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