Tragic

Our dynasty: briers and thorns—sorrow and sighing—and
We die such terror. I swim the furry, and quell the tragic—
Our nightmare. Such seaweed and kelp—an underwater
Breath. I’m trodden underfoot; and life is tragic—a scorned

Piano. Imagine forever, and every grief; indeed, never-forever.
In truth, sackcloth, the skin of goats, the sweetest sorrow;
And burgundy—the blue of blood; and sprout a kiss—a tragic
Dance. We fall to rise—a daily sky; and parched for love—a

Thirst to fly; and highway hell—a gravel torn; and walk the
Night—a rite unborn. My noble wall—the tallest death: a
Tender grief—a tragic breath. The worse to come—a lonely
Well: a tale of dreams: a public hell. The quest is love—a
Fragile self; and torn aflame—the cries of help; and thus
Aloof—a dying soul; and thus aloof—a social stone.