A Pail of Pain

Pull a pail of muffling sound
From the well of salty tears
Lest all those raven pain, dark
Will enfold the forshaken past

Pulling measured rope to height
I gained half baked truth
For the loss I repented
Was bitter than my present fed

I will see my thoughts burning
Raining ghastly, flickering flames
So, with my thoughts vanished
Will, serve well who dwelth the ‘well’.

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