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Gord

Cymbalism

Love of Internet

0

33

19 lines

55 words

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Cymbalism by Gord

Gord

Love of Internet

Cymbalism

A doctor says to me:
There is no healing,
Tells me just to be,
No wishful thinking.
His heart a bean,
Feelings consumed.
Living amused,
Is no good for me,
Misunderstood by you.
Forever twilight,
A gradient life,
Polite goodbyes.
He lives like limes,
His hands a vine,
No tree remarked,
With loved ones dying.
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