Thursday 7 January 2010

SWINGS.

Recently certain moods have been compromised,
And subsequently nobody has realised,
That suddenly all the rules are tied
To their own reckless feelings.
Thanking less has always brought an air of loss,
And seemingly the faithful have been caught and passed
By new endeavours favoured by the fresh,
And facing such the poor come reeling.

Fortune has never discovered how to defer
The futures of the masses or the learned;
The obvious distinctions between the burned,
So shallowness has always surfaced.
Chance has circumvented everything,
And naturally nothing is left free to sing
Of tunes imbed by years therein,
And souls have always suffered.

Now anyone with half a book to sell
Will eventually foretell
That ends for means are always wishing wells,
And signing on is never certain.
Forsaking sanity, and its accompanied pain,
A few friends withhold their own acumen,
And fishing in someone else’s borrowed vein
Resigns them to the curtain.

We’ve all tried hard to educate our friends,
But sometimes they feign knowledge of the end,
Regardless of the fear their acts engender
Within their given people.
So hasten not your own fickle rise,
And steel yourself before the ties
You used to share with your most wise
Now shaken from their steeple.

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