Be gone oh perilous sorrow,
my being now drives by morrow's manual,
be gone, i'm girded by hopes hardened arrow,
my fate flies free not at the mercy of thy perusal,
be gone predator or you yet not done with beef of your prey?
Even if not, i stray from thy course,
thy scouring whips drain elation from my spring source,
my whimpering soul cease to stile thy tide,
and unto thy stare do i charge and chide,
i shall trade your merchandise no more,
that stock is void of value.
You set me low and feed me with milk of grief,
you rip to rents my laughter and feast on my smiles,
hence, depart from i and linger miles,
flee this day to deep valleys were you await doom's mesh,
ere you dwelled on meadow and mounted my comrades' flesh,
now all my light i marry to merry,
for then shall age wait and death tarry.


By:
Beryl Nazz Adonai

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