Who are we but mortal souls,

that wander throughout time,
a wretched form existing…

in a dark, and troubled mind.
Our search of life’s desires,

all end with bitter pain…
For love is fleeting, like the night,

that brings yet another day.
Bitter disappointments,

that give way to fits of rage…
can only mend with life a new,

and our demons in a cage.

Antony King © 2017

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