Image for the poem Woe...


“Is there a brave lord birthed by Fate  
To wield old weapons, win new estates  
And tear down walls Time sanctifies,  
Raze ancient temples as hallowed lies,  
His  pride to break, his love to lose,  
Destroying his race, his history, his muse,
And relinquishing peace for a life of strife,  
Leave only a corpse that the flies refuse?”

Woe fore I weep,  
for things done in conceit.  
Woe, as I mourn  
the lovers living forlorn.  
Woe though I ache  
for all their irrevocable mistakes;  
alas, woe is my lament  
for all the acts  done without regret.
A blight, any and all
who bring misery and distress,  
to a loving heart, grief and wretchedness,
fore you are so woefully banal.
Gypsy Red

Written by marielavoue (Gypsy Red)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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