And Thus, Father

November 22, 2012
Forgive me if he couldn't, scare away the lies,
Frighten all the cobwebs, and whispers of demise,
Tuck away the vile words, and fragments of his fears,
Apologize for memories, heal my bleeding ears,
And thus at last, give rest, to anger he doth bear,
Quiet then, no laughter, showing he won't care,
He'll call aloft to angels, a fearful sight for me,
Disgusted with my anger, a gift bestowed by he,
So down I fall to darkness, a patient home I sow,
The product of the reaping, of thoughts I have let grow,
Yet providence has ended here, no gifts that I may find,
No sanity for madness, and none for which I pined.

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