A day last until it is chased away but
love last until the grave, a piece of this
in ye’s head leads to a catastrophe
The dignity of a treasure,
has been broken by a pressure
although ye used to be a shakeid like a
slave in the mining field who yearns to
obtain gold
but the lustful being has denied ye,
from being bold
The paraphernalia for a great success
has been shuttered in a dark room but
will the convalesce be ever derived?
Especially at the ganger of distress.
poetry bag 