deepundergroundpoetry.com

the balm

I offer you my being
you give me back some guilt.
A mental fairy tale
Willingly rebuilt.

But the prince is already late
the kingdom now is lost.
Despair has conquered it
And this crown is a thorn,

that pierces my being
that curses my guilt
and balm on my sorrow:
my pupils when they shrink.
personanongrata
Written by personanongrata (persona non grata)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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