You are the only true chalice
as I snake and admire
having the having of not having
and half of the other
You placate the violence
as I stumble as I stutter
the living acceptance of rainbows
disguised in a languorous summer
You are the only true chalice
as I rage as I shine
the balance to a demon
of having and not mine
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2 comments:
there is no true chalice!
it was all a great and dreadful lie!
good poem, though.
rage on!
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