I have not known bliss,

That flutters in clutches of the rich and famous.

I have not known comfort,

That which silken robes and eiderdown can provide.

I have not felt love,

That which burns with passion and withers away as quick.

I have not known despair,

That which chases me into oblivion and splits my soul into two.


But I have known solace,

The kind that rages in the dark of the night,

Yet slithers slowly into the embers of my burning heart.

That which fills my melancholy with melody,

The sun,

The moon,

The stars,


That which I lay my head upon in the odd hours.






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