Pity the word
04/04 2022
Pity those who sit confided within bleached walls
Out the windows black wetlands; and time
Shall I compare thee to a day in hell?
Inspiration, nay contemplation, is what I require
A landscape untarnished by war and love;
By the human heart. Oh it's been so long.
Pity those who measure their days
In bottles of cheap lagers and dregs of wine
They're the true saints of this twisted world;
Fallen so far, but forever changed it all the same
Convinced the pure of accepting philosophy and art
Over the bleached existence of eternal sun
Who can live without rest, anyways?
Surely not I, hand me a beer will you ---
I want to see the sun rise over the wetlands.