Dead Poets

Awoken from a halcyon nap,
upon earth, boorish and crude,
a realm with trifling paltry trap,
sustaining enormous feckless brood,

What say the dead poets' spirits,
"beholden, we're salvaged from the maze,
See them sprawled like dust and grit,
wandering in a disheveled haze"

(c) S.S


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