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By coujeaux Date: 2005 Jun 27 Comment on this Work [[2005.06.27.12.22.32623]] |
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Goodbye, dear; then insert their name here, sign, seal and deliver, address their no return, Of course things didn't work out between us; pay attention then perhaps you'll finally learn. To those departed, one might lament it should never have started; 'tis better, the not at all, Far more foreboding than any alternative presented in the wake of fortunes destined to fall. I've comforted the refuse; they've comforted me and our shared experiences did little good, For few are the sort to proclaim any proficiency at defeats nor would I advise them if I could. Sadtale raconteurs populate literature of every society; we do well to heed wisdom they share, For it seems almost a birthright to suffer the indigenous indignity of heartbreak we always dare. So much has been composed dissecting the mechanics of misery that their company reassures, That somewhere deep in the heritage of our longing someone's woe must have equalled yours. Throughout these ages, we're phased out in stages, systematic translation bidding faretheewell, With only the relics of adorations once so vibrantly vital we'd sacrifice salvation to kiss then tell. I am one of nowadays, akin to scribes before me, likewise cursed to feel for others, passerbyes, In moments I stood alone in my despair it was if a distant ancestor appeared before these eyes. He guided me with stories he told and at first it seemed he meant to scold; fears are no excuse, Too common is this thread that so many seem to dread and we're not given love to inflict abuse. Remind; constructs of mankind are best if left behind, but that wearied will you cherish is divine, 'Tis the reason all ponder purposes designated up yonder through flipside analyses in every line. |