L O N G I N G


Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.

Scribbled Verse



L O N G I N G





The scimitar cleaves deep, drawing blood, in moments awake,


in the nightmarish twilight of accursed sleep,


beyond creeping evening where shadows creep,


across the haunting willows that continue to weep.




My longing for you knows no bounds, as I keep at bay desolation’s sniggering hounds,


deadened by the cacophonous crowd, muffling my ears to it’s battering sounds,


deafened by the parade that all wear plastic smiles as they do their endless rounds.




My longing for you, is a deep sawing ache,


assaulting my sleep, wrenching the moments when I am barely awake,


the desolate pangs of yearning callously take, all peace as my ramparts struggle to hold back the tide of tears, hoping against hope that my walls do not break.




This pining heart, this yearning soul, this broken man, sliced and diced, bruised and shattered,


realising now, and far too late, that…

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