The craftiest words spill
Over and over.
No reason could ever be kept.
The loss of the line
She held on for weeks.
she mourns? No.
She digs, she pleads;
To earth—
Dive, spade!
Irony strikes cold:
fill the void!
And humour, stand proud!
Humility enters.
No one finds better comfort
Than she, who lives for the day
The bucket is filled.
YOU ARE READING
Artemis' Pensieve
Non-FictionLyrics to the hymns of my messed up mind... Or atleast something that resembles it..
