Ripped at the very edge
Yet they call me a masterpiece,
Like the shreds of yarn
Got from a rotting fleece.
Like the shards of glass
From a broken ashtray,
They said I could shine
Even when life seemed gray.
They told me, once more
That I may yet gain
Sunshine's warm light
'Fore my mind's lost again.
The second Van Gogh,
Tis' my title, they say
With me mind full o' desolation
Yet giving out joyous rays.
So, I know that life ain't fair,
And death confronts her fevers for his own gains.
But know that each has its own time,
Can't run forever, till eternity fine.
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Author's Note: This is a republication of the collection earlier known under the same name. So old readers (once who are returning to read this collection), do not worry, it's just the old book being revamped after a rather long (3 year) hiatus. New readers, dive forth to the next works, that hopefully, you will like.....
Thank you for listening to this small rant ❤️❤️❤️
- Alpineglow3241
