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nothing but loss,nothing but love,

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nothing but loss,
nothing but love,

nothing but egotistical freaks screaming loudly for gloves.

passions are fired,
and faithfuls are tired,

and lousy counting people wishing they'd been sired.

tasteless locks of lemon,
fearless stocks of glee;

sauntering down cracked paved roads,
roaming to be free.

earnest are the gale-full woes that pattern open walls,

sternest are the voices placid tenderly above.

hateful tidings bringing sentries—
lustful works of peace.

powerful meekness excessively pampered,
and rent for your life on lease.

arrogant seeds wishfully likened,
persistent to those who wait;

fellow poets and avid reading friends,
no poem of this shares a fate.

m.y.

Cryptomnesia  | a 2022 collection of poetry written by Morigan YoungWhere stories live. Discover now