Time be still till my fear unsours;
Shackled thoughts in inspire’s hell.
Amid stained roads of equal power,
With blank receipts from a kismet’s sale.
Resolve in eve of wrinkle’s touch,
Avoid the annual contritely ball.
My heart be held in self-child’s clutch
To find the path that’s truest all.
Prithee time grow young or freeze in space
Until failure’s winter bruises pass.
I stand to run, but run in place;
In angst your arms may tick their last.
I expose my flesh from a liar’s strength
For a weightless run, devoid fear of length.
Copyright © 2017 JQ SIRLS. All Rights Reserved