oh the languished braid lay fair upon your shoulder
Fought me hard in denial melding hard in naked foder
Fair the hearth shine in wayward absolution
Talk it up talk it clean talk of dissolution
A forgiveness for hearted crimes
restless as we feel we edge to sweet appeal and pleasant rhymes
an appeal to the better fate that could have been
A certain fodder to the war of whatever you may tag the wrong in your favorite sin
Give it all to the winds of a virtual fruition
fuck the wrong and the derision
Feelings fine is a thought sublime hidden from the clowns of disarray
I have nothing more to say
what the fuck ever

(c) 2017 Michael James Garland