Lyretry

my post (6) (2)

Perhaps I can
Maybe I cannot
Wishing to make a stand
Nonetheless, discovery is lost

On the precipice
I lean into the winds gust
Hearing, fearing the nearness of the abyss
Fixed between loathing and lust

Three days straight
With no interruption in sight
Whirled around—unable to break
Isolation will persistently fight

The worthy and the immoral
Tug, release, then tug some more
A constant always-extant turmoil
That has escorted too many through the door

Young love—Young Lust
So much hope— Scarcely any trust

About G.Edward Smith

Looking...Looking...and trying to find...
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