Fatigue

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Know something's amiss:
Passing paperclips
Beneath fingertips
Tingle with promise

The ego gone wrong
In fashioning pain
As some kind of game
In guise of being strong

Yet elsewhere bombs fall
Of course we can care
The cowardly dare
To answer the call

False means to atone
For wallowing guilt
At all the blood spilt
That isn't your own

rhyme

◄ Sorry for Apologising

Sonnet No. 2 ►

Comments

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Becky Who

Fri 6th Mar 2020 18:55

Thanks as always Don and Po. I'll try to stick around a bit more.

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Don Matthews

Fri 6th Mar 2020 08:40

It's nice to read you here again
Poetic lines (and wise)
Despite you being gone four months
No need apologise......

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poemagraphic

Fri 6th Mar 2020 08:33

Becky this is great poetry.


..." False means to atone
For wallowing guilt
At all the blood spilt
That isn't your own"...

Such an insightful inspired damning line.
Po

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