We All Got Problems
To each his own is baggage internal
by Mavinda Cyril
Conceited that 'hope springs eternal'
I wonder how one'd destine infernal
A soul for having erred under bane
That's existence! Upon it angst lade
Progress of minds and lifes' game
For so long to forget dogma's tirade
The grind, in hope of solution's lame
And thus some fervently claim
Even the insentient assort of golems
Even the sentient gnomes.....