To Paul: A Lost Identity
Thus can art be fair, no excuse to be fairer.
Those soft touch of liquor and desire,
Ever falls and sleep in eyes of pleasure.
With no mistaken sight to admire,
As life’s extremity starting the fire.
Wandered in depths of an old promise
That kissed the scent of bliss.
The broken past upon the quietness;
A shed of tears and despair drew.
Wearing mask, play with fire, more or less
The fire and hunger around it grew
But behind a mask is where love lies
Showing humor under the starry skies
Most true it is thy will that doth fulfill
And full with will making love that doesn’t still
Yet so they talk, only speaking of their woe
That every word says guilt should look so
An impasse puzzle, an indelible sight
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