deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Night Marches on: An Anthem of Praxis and Maxim
Insomnia like death and taxes
Is sure to plague me
until the end
For which it leaves me asking
I'm just a man
forced to marry pressure and praxis
Inside the hall of my core
I make mead of these maxims
My body tosses about
My tongue turns the phrase
If I just stay true to this practice
I know I'll be okay
Is sure to plague me
until the end
For which it leaves me asking
I'm just a man
forced to marry pressure and praxis
Inside the hall of my core
I make mead of these maxims
My body tosses about
My tongue turns the phrase
If I just stay true to this practice
I know I'll be okay
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 349
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.