Mhall46184@aol.com
Making a Song in a Time of Sorrow
Making a song in a time of sorrow
Isn’t possible, you know; it doesn’t work
All hope is disconnected from the hands
And any sense of meter breaks apart
The rhythm of the self is out of tune
The patterns of existence are but smoke
Adrift among the greyscaped wreckage of life
Cascading power failures of the soul
Just drop it for now; maybe tomorrow
Rebuilding then a life out of the sorrow
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