London Poem: Day 333

16 July

We live to die,
A quiet death in a years time –
After age has folded itself
Into a strange beast;
A blend of regression, and a world
Seen and tossed aside.
Do not let pain enter, nor
Force Heroism to join either,
Simply offer a soft bed,
And the quaint blind
Excitement of getting into
Bed for a quiet nights sleep,
For it to all fade away.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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