The Night Rain of Friday Night

This is my threnody,
I sing it for you,
This is the night jewel,
I carve it from my icicle tears,
Of dystopian fears.

Too much to give in,
A hyperbola soup,
Trends of naysayers
Have confused, your soul
Confused your soul,
Confused your soul,
Feeling rustic,
I long for home,
The earth with that golden blonde hair
With that ocean blue sky,
Flying with me,

Come winter, Come summer,
Come, the rider from that everlasting field,
The field is mine,
But patience has made me strong but lovelessness has made me a fool,
I enter the realm of this blonde field, like a conquering king,
With no one left to rule.

-Roy

 

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Bookish

How long will you take it?
The sadness that you call laughter?
The pain in the helter-skelter of the lies you see?
How long will you wonder?
If you could have made a better life?
A couple of trinkets in the talent
And a rich cake every night!
How steep could you fall?
If you didn’t drink that poison?
If you didn’t die every night.
If you didn’t start the fight,
Then why do you still fall?

The escapades of people,
Don’t let it get you down,
You will fly in time,
Everyone’s got their dues,
To pay the piper of life.

Dream on little dreamer,
Dream away,
Rest with your dreams tonight,
And live life the next day.