Thursday, 6 September 2012

Another attempt at things that rhyme

Once I was your story man
your truth and purpose giver.
Once I was the doryman
upon your Pearl River.

But you've set your silken sails
and left me in your wake:
you saw your ilk in tales,
and now their path you take

If I could have the time again,
when at your side I lay,
no such tales would I spin
and by my side you'd stay.

You think you're cured of me,
my dear.
My dear,
 you think that you are free.

But I will tell you this:
Your cancer isn't in remission;
It dances in these story mists.
It dances, twirls, and twists.
And it charges you admission.

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