deepundergroundpoetry.com
Prayer
He talks of cars
That purple card
Such loving calm-
No time to mope.
Making plans
This loving man
Not seeing less than
I cannot cope.
With wishing dreams
Their friend unclean
No hope to glean
Hand me to the rope.
Take me from
These crying eyes
No more to lie
To my end elope.
They cannot see
The rot inside
This broken me
Where is the rope?
No words can stop
Or time forgot
These sins begot
Embrace me, dear rope.
Nothing will change
No hearts exchange
I cannot leave pain
This sacred rope.
And here we end
No memories to fend
To my innocence I lend:
My blessed, final rope.
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