Whispers-writhe-while rains-may-rend,
and so-often-speaking-seethe-and-sigh,
but never-too-near-tide’s-ebb-to-try.
Poured-is-past-piling-plots-putridly-plied,
but consider-less-callously-change-as-chides
close-and-clamor-cumulatively, at entropic-end.
Derisive-delusory-dreads-diminish-if-dawns-decide
that gloom-not-glamor and true greatness-glides
not fearful-furious lies ere flag’s-fortunes-fly.
And remember-in-ruin it’s candid-to-cry,
such-same-as-self boldly, by-and-by,
no simple-sum-for-sinister-and-shy.
Even trembling-and-tumults-thine,
never-ever-near too-late-to-try,
frayed-ferocious-old-friend.
○
– achrilock