Everything, That Is

Even the healthiest can die/everything that is
Within the lie arises too High, Oh hi, hi, hi
I bet your Somerset Maughams just the man for the job
Selling bondage and stocks for pilgrim rates rock
And rattle fates baby rates tattle at the gates of horn
Even ever after being born one Night late of mist and rain
Once calls for dappled shadows to conceal the two who yet
Are and are not real, you steal then forget where you left
The other man once wrapped in spun a wounded sun secret
Bet was placed there dreamed a like/but only was it his?
Even the healthiest can die/everything that is~



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 598 times
Written on 2017-01-06 at 01:28

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