Mores

Poem By samuel nze

Silent noise
Wise foolery
Happy grief
Long brevity
All is in you

You grate your teeth at me
And there is that agitation
In your soul
You feel I am hurt by it all
And hence your sick joy
It is brief, but you stretch its keep.

Late haste
Spoilt remedy
Failed victory
Heavenly hell
Allis in you.

Comments about Mores

Thanks, Samuel. Now I'll re-read it several times!


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