Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Mire

Gently the effluence falls into puddles on the earth,
Cleansing, purifying, with monotonous wail,
Accumulate as it does, plentiful, not dearth,
Supplanting me, filling to the brim.

Sadness like thoughts enter into mind,
Of loss, of gain, of otherworldly djinns,
Troubles me as it troubles you in kind,
The time has passed to wallow in.

Beneath the mire only sadness does reign,
Locked up in idle obscurity,
Upon recognition of the dulling pain,
Sink I must, into insanity.

You'd cling to your pleasant hope,
In it's twisted fascination,
I'd face the obstacles into despair,
And we're praising death.

A delusion made me stronger,
Yet I am draped in withering flesh,
I sacrificed more than I had,
And left my woes beneath the mire.

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