People so difficult, whether on default or without fault
Many appraisal, but belove hide thy prayer
They ate your heart dead, that was the very hate
Put your hope only on the power whose name and shape
No living creatures knows,
My knowledge is weighed by knowings of countries of ages.
I have met people that our mare people,
They have made me a man, a hater of the wind
I have been forged with pampering of sweet hatred
The very hatred their visages spoke only of but smiles,
Knowing all things but sure that the people i thought were
People are mare people.
I have had no crumb of comfort from this people
They are mare people only but nightmares.
This is really not a talking of poetry,
if I try to write of this, I will be written off,
My dealings with people has had no good seal
Our stitching and unstiching has been naught,
The last straw of good people I knew died
With the embers of daylight,
Now at the break of days and years
I grow weary-hearted as the hollow moon,
The strength to go on with people have chilled
Me to the bone,
The habitual contents of each with each is haughty.
I have been lashed and mashed by people
That the hourly kindness and the days common speech
Are only but debris.
Creator alas! please default us to creations plan.
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