A Little Lie To Comfort Me
Wanting not that which ye hold so high
Leaves this heart of mine contented
For it can not fail were it does not try
It remains free from the tormented
I suffer not so far from that place
That ye make epic trek to find
Loves game is but a fools race
Which is never merciful nor kind
Joyous solitude stands alone
To watch the rough waves of emotion
Little boats are shook and blown
Into the deeps of the ocean
poem by Colm Hayes
Added by Poetry Lover
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