stonedsour's Diaryland Diary

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Society's Sin

(A SOnnet)

We have braved the scorn of distance's might,
Beseeching the gods to spare our worn hearts,
Daring the seasons to squander their light,
Unlikely a union ever to start.
Dear God--there was age! Tis' irony's face.
Gauntlet be thrown by society's hand,
How dare there be Spring within Winter's embrace?
What chasm to cross, what bridge to be spanned!
But then there was silence basking in sound,
Unlikely a pair, it would seem to be.
The differences vast, each voice would resound,
Yet somehow we two found vision to see.
The cyclical tick of irony's grin,
We traipse on in visage of society's sin.

1:14 p.m. - 2005-04-23

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