Bound

Cold requests that which once would abound,

beyond the edges to which mortals are bound.

In echoing whispers of tremulous sound,

the loss of those souls which we hope to be found.

 

What have we to be lost on a mid-summer’s day?

What darkness surrounds those who laugh it away?

A faithless decision and cureless disease,

Can bind flesh, soul and bone with the simplest of ease.

 

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