I find that I
despair in certain
circumstances;
cut scene, curtains!
I may draw
only what I see
because real
differs to me.
I’m peculiar
but I hate not;
I won’t forget
eyes I sought.
The other day
and last night,
now the bough
it breaks not.
Told I did her
truth in a note.
That her eyes
keep me afloat.
That when in
hell I’ll be,
that her eyes
will I think.
To stave torment
brought in hours.
In twisted ivy in
burning flowers.
All despair so
sweetly set adrift.
Every thought in
fog she does lift.
The world is
forlorn and lost.
She appeared
amid it to cross.
Deceptors haunt
her precious glow.
All I want is her
respected to grow.
They speak ill
tawdry jives;
her profession
is in their hive.
I would hope
as days roll by
they treat her as
queen in the sky.
😍😍😍
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