Late night

The writers write for the ears that hear`eth not

The love sick poets, that ‘suck’

The melody that achieves fuckal

Only in the sentimental rubbish movies, 

Does it end happy

Real life doesn’t pan out that way,

Ask anyone,

Anyone, that is honest, that is

I wrote, long winded notes

Quoted verses

Repeated cliches, repeated folly

Moans rose from within the belly,

Overwhelming the heart

Nights awake , the black sea raging

In dreams ‘your mane was waving

 

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