My life a novel tale of sorrow days.
A solitary cigarette flame to life,
Awaiting the end of this profound malaise.
With emerald visions of perfect ways,
A fiend searches for a rusty knife,
My life a novel tale of sorrow days.
So, surrounded by books in which to daze,
An escape planned, as I fear the strife,
Awaiting the end of this profound malaise.
In torn velvet robes to the skies I gaze,
My executioner plays an old fife,
My life a novel tale of sorrow days.
A mistake, an err! So let me rephrase,
The crescendo signals the afterlife,
Awaiting the end of this profound malaise.
A train forthcoming with lengthy delays,
A trail of dust accompanies my ways,
My life a novel tale of sorrow days.
Awaiting the end of this profound malaise.
I think this piece is exceptionally lovely. I hope to read more soon.
Side note: Did you mean to say “A fiend…” instead of “An fiend…”?
Feel free to delete this comment if I’m wrong.
You are right. Completely right, I’ll edit it. Thank you!
Oh good. I didn’t want to be rude. Glad I could help.
No, I appreciate being told. Sleepiness is my excuse. 🙂
It’s ok I just had to edit my latest because I wrote it right before bed.
It’s midday here, I don’t really have an excuse. 😉
Haha, I’m sure you can make one up! That’s what I do.