I could wallow and revel
on a level take the handle.
In my eyes light candles,
strike a fell artistic anvil.
Make me ways not done
before make me absolution
to rest upon my tired soul
and take away my confusion.
Forged not complete I go
somewhere only you know.
Illustrate peace for me grow
in fields of hills above snow.
What make you of this I feel
of this devotion wrought light
that begs only to take flight
in calm and in still of night.
Finding the calm in arms
that circle to never harm.
Find no reason for alarm,
speak with all your charm.
I would never take away
that which you possess say
my name I a phantom phase
who has lived in better days.
Make now make complete,
as we mend our weary feet,
things you desire to keep
walking on unkind streets.
I’ve taken my time to grow
I seek peace inside I know
that I don’t burry below;
things I carry now behold.
I shall not be a perfect type
slowly I grow just in despite
of the fact of my novel fight
is essential to supply insight.
Fell did this anvil upon dirt
so seek peace within the hurt
where truth does not divert
from this course spins earth.
I always admire those who can rhyme in poetry, especially so subtly like this one that it’s not the focus but just adds to to ambiance
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Thank you very much.
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