To Condescend One Melancholia

September 19, 2010
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Can’t you see?

The battles done

Futile and worn

Don’t you know?

It doesn’t do to back down

Deny the choice which was born

It’s easy to tell!

Fate favors the broken

Makes prose out of scorn

Clue in pompous Prozac!

My moods not your toy

Who settles for happy candy when there is salvation to form?

Alright I’ll elaborate!

Angers a poison; that sly sickly red

Leaves me to scatter, infirm and forlorn

And now let me tell you

My time ridden foe

Redemption kept pseudo by capsule or lozenge

Came pure by the cross He adorned

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