deepundergroundpoetry.com

Glory

My heavy crown of prickly thorns
Has my spirit withered and torn
Worn down and habitually weary
Logically angry over emotionally teary

As the tyranny seems to be on the rise
I'm keeping my head up and eyes on the prize
Hoping that there's no disguise of the hereafter
Thinking, poeting and surmising the final chapter
Written by da_poetic-edifier (Damon)
Published
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