true benevolence

What is that exactly
That doesn’t let me rest
When a day surrenders
It is a pest
To try to get rid of all
The thoughts that do molest.
So striving at the pillow,
The lonely nest,
A cold and absurd shaddow
Of our past
Keeps thoroughly suggesting
That nothing lasts.
The beauty of your contours
will never gloom
I am your faithful child
You are my bloom.
We stand atop high mountains
For we are doomed
To drink the wine of sadness
Where love had boomed.

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