The walls of this room are nothingness
That never knows another day,
To be adorned only in articulate
Touching time, and torn dismay.
To love, to fear, to find, to tame
Nobody’s breeze stilly behaves
In freedom flows across a throat
Brassy rivulets wrought within a brain.
To obtain, to gain the surge
Should be said to score a knife
Across what is meant in meagre words
To symbolise the rest of life.
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