Indeed it might be the forever questions which are the fore fronts of what keep my mind occupied.
A philosophy angled to a stance In which an answer can be assumed.
Exuberant and dandy my mind can train a thought.
But decadent and precise,
my choice runs a trot.
Passion of a fear
for unworthy feelings hither near,
just a healing only becoming thatof a dead dreary queer.
Forsaken at his haven,
delivered like glass oh so clear.
L.A.W.
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