" ... how they seem. "
Fog of night, descending
The drawl of slumber, creeping nearby
Emotional wreckage, repaired quietly
Succinctly, explained in keen format.
Top, taken for a ride
Into the atmosphere of gargantuan claims
That playwrights write woefully
Of the brilliance burned into stars.
Deep tales of intrinsic wonder
Woven into song sung openly
Of lives lived in ode,
To the avenues of their calling.
Oh ballad beware
Your sturdy tortures do float
And land ever so softly
Amid shoulders worth bearing.
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