The Making of a Hideous Sighting
My heart doth not quench
The Illusion of the deep
May it be no more, as what I can clean
From the hideous stench.
The Normality is gone
And the delay is done
In prayer do I only conceive
The secrets of my unwavering deceits
O Wake me, O, Lord from this nightmare
Who can help me overcome, the debt
Of my dream's fare? Lo, Better is
The Paper than me who does not care.
O my heart, stop pushing me
Cease fooling the unknown seed, and
Continue not, the pathetic
Sighting!
Let it be no more, as the paper
Do soar as the place of my
Person mourn! O the pain of
Self unsatisfaction is unending!
The conflicts are confusing
The bus of my dreams are dying
For all I know, the paper who scorns
Me to be, is low.
Understand the mystery, I do mourn
For the fact is always taken to what
I do not adore. O ye paper, have domination
Against the door!
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