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Confession

For me tonight is but a night
of a harlot's miser curse;
that I may fight my shameful blight
and test this latent verse.

I do dare a promise bare
not to be absurd.
To judge and care (this I swear)
each god forsaken word.

My life has had an ugly spin
(and-time knows how long) ,
but I'll begin, with humble grin,
to fix all that is wrong.

Confess I may, my thoughts away
to-this silent crook
which does dismay, yet still won't say
what faults this freaky book.

My harlot sight cannot fight
the loneliness within.
It can only stare (and despair)
at what to me is kin.

No friends I have, no better halves
to confide in everyday;
to be a group and have a laugh
about our crazy ways.

No naive distraction, no satisfaction;
all I must dismiss.
No sweet abstraction, no reaction,
no life in total bliss.

A dropp the sky wants to hide
will never quench the earth.
A man society wants to subside
will never break his girth.

All I have is my lonesome self
and nothing to entrap:
a silent bell, a beggar's wealth,
a withering oak-tree's sap.

What is more, I can't ignore
the pain and suffer's sting.
A pregnant tart, a wretched whore
deploring her lost spring.

What is left, what comes next
by what-will my life be touched?
Will I leave this yonder text
and slither on as such?

Fate will say if to my grave
I carry this painful woe
or if like freedom to a slave,
glee to me bestow.

What remains is but a tint
of a flower's maiden bloom.
It will ripen and, with a glint,
soothe my poor-heart's gloom.

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Comments (2)

Nice piece of writing.. the rhythm really caught me up, which in turn made the ideas behind the words a lot more accessible. Keep it up.
I confess I really like your poem. From start to finish it kept me captivated.