Homeless

What fetid hope that sinks so low

Has crept in on the chilling wings

My silver soul has wept in cold

Distraught for futures yet unknown. 
Destroy in me this lauded right

To happiness each day and night;

Instead compose more righteous clothes

Of eager hunger for your soul. 
I need not change, nor speech, nor

Eyes alight upon my success. 

Retrieve in me the yearning for

Your love, which left me dispossessed. 

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