The lost art of subtlety

Relief of stress be not a hope

Relief of stress be not a hope?

Like Wired coil, though spiraled tight

Preferred to glee while noosed to rope

Still, callous fate meets human plight-

To poise with iron a solid creed

The loss of soul for times of leisure.

'Tis justly for ones suffering be

To bathe in grief than bloody pleasure

Tension's nest lay buried low

The spots and errs in human speech

Even stammering. Words. May not. go.

To be Free.

Bring forth scourge akin to pillars

and let my soul regain her will

'Twas the bonds of cheer that killed her

and yet death's pride is pride still

In method alone, woe is prized

in a world of false and dullard pretense

in relief, is slaved and clouded mind

but trial, shields unruly conscience