O How They Gaze upon My Solemn Face

Stay Alive

O how they gaze upon my solemn face
Like autumn on a tree before the shed. 
They jest of how my lips are void of grace, 
And of how my demons and I would wed. 

If then amidst thy shade I find no peace
Speak not when I seek to abide alone. 
O how forlorness truly can be bliss;
(Me and these demons might just build a home.) 

There is nothing to give when there is none, 
Or when desire is stiffened from regret. 
But for these poems would I have been gone, 
On exile to a land the dead expect. 

And while discomfort refuses to leave, 
When I shall do, tell me if you will grieve? 



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