May 1, 2008
As time inches past,
my sole not to rest.
Joy, my heart not has’t.
For eternity I embellish this crest,
of both honor and dismay,
fathom and companionship to your new state, I pray
this suffering will hense.
The strands of silk together they stand.
But as one strays, they fray as a band.
And you are that stray that sickens our seed,
and makes us grow weak.
Too weak to find the answers we seek.
Our band is not strong while you’re not here.
Come back my brother to rid of our tears
and rid of our fears
of continuing life while you’re nowhere near.
For then,
It might not hurt as much.

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