There is a hole in me
It calls out to be poetry
What is it my friend
What message do you send
From the echoing halls
Of the deep dark falls?

I speak of doom and gloom
Of a pain felt far too soon
Cheated by the fated roll
Beaten by a gorgeous soul
I boil in sighs of wildest fury
At spells I found too much alluring
Me a fool into a pitfall trap
Expecting rather a lover’s lap.

I feel instead a grief
And anger at how brief
And yet in spite of it all
My thoughts dare have the gall
To be grateful.
To be fateful…

To all the growth
Which I am loth
By truth to admit
Has come of it
When all I really want to do
Is vent out angry plumes.

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