Sunday, 12 March 2017

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I write to heed my plight of suffering
And thus wisely weathering
A dark cloud that does shroud me
And my sanity, a grave mentality.
My delusions and confusions
Can become character creations,
And as the nights quietly pass by
I am prone to shed a tear and cry.

I am humane, gentle and soft
And hold greatly aloft
A morality of sanity
To a Christian popularity.
But regardless of these sensibilities
I am still prone to be ill at ease.

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

A sonnet. Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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