Spare of weakness it was,
quickly it came to the light of day,
far more than it gave in what choose to,
as seen as it was,
come upon the sight of it all,
delirious it was all it ended up,
in the end of it all,
yet no close,
so far from the truth of it all,
just as it so it be,
awoken from the soul of it all,
leave it as a beauty riddle,
that plays as a tune,
that warps the mind,
short and sweet,
but a sickness that can’t be rubbed off,
as easy some could do,
spare the weakness of it all,
that’s how it became as it was,
smiling of an different kind of fiddle gin sow,
be only by the beach,
that can only seen as a hue of pink,
seasons away that dash off,
in flows of spring,
coming and forgetting the hail storm before,
lingering in the spare weakness,
that’s what it was,
once before,
stoking a fire that is an blue sea thought,
never really ending,
but the end will come,
nor in the blood that stains the hands,
in a moment of weakness,
beyond what others could understand,
lost in the drunk haze,
that muffles the right words to be said,
just a spare moment of weakness,
used all the wrong way,
but it is hard to find an easy way,
lust sight it remains as it was,
leaving nothing to just heave away the pain,
that came out of the haze,
resulting from the moment,
the moment of weakness,
spared out of confusion,
if nothing else of it,
left in the haze.

 

 

 

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