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To Face The East—To Drown The Dawn—



With gleaming heads of pulpy white,
More tan, they say, or golden blonde;
But what I see is naught but white
To face the east—to drown the dawn—


I cry at you—not for you, though,
The tears line up, about to jump;
They seem afraid, as if death row
Was nothing but heartache—a dump.


To face the east—to drown the dawn—
Is something that one lingers for—
To face the west—to save his pawn—
Nevermind—show him to the door.


I wait forever—but a day,
In order so I might find light,
Of golden locks of gathered hay,
To muster will—and/or my might—


My weakness, my blonde deity—
Come back to me, I cry to you!
Bear the pain that hath saved me
From my ordering the hearts' coup!


I know that this is all for naught,
I accept it, though it me pains—
To face that dawn, is not my lot!
But, it hath saved you from my maims.




Love from Atheugorei

  • Like 4


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I agree with Drew. You should post it on the 'Live-Poets Society' thread as well, and let more people see it. :) 

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