A lyric with a rhythm
Slow, sonorous and flowing
Word and hart-touching
Heart-wrenching, a dirge
Sorrowful, filled with so much pain
Soul-ripping, filling the mind with dust
A lyric of rhythm devoid
Filling the soul with joy
A remembrance of many days gone
Like a pouch lip emitting
Burning flames and blasphemies
Idolatry, hurting plagues
Rhymes are effeminate
Filled to the brain, passionate
Left alone but not in isolate
My song is many, yet it is one
In the rain or under the sun
Slowly purging me of ills
Of run-down illicit memories
Of this, that and some bliss
Of the pains of the days without meals
My song is one, yet it is many
Like a floating sky slowing drifting
Heavy with passion, ready to drop
Pulsate, looks like it wana tell me a story
Of my life, your life, our lives
And leaving me with the battling questions of how’s and why’s
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