Gord

2024-08-29 05:28 am

There's no corset for age, 
Inevitably, masks degrade, 
What cannot be truly said, 
Like what is inside of a bank?

I think:
Narrow focus, quests for fame. 
Yellow, orange, redder grapes,
Yellow locusts, yellow cobras, 
Despite the sweetness, slaves,
Yellow, love, and disgust of stage.

It's the red that keeps you away.
It's the red that keeps you awake,
It's red that made me ashamed,
Less sweet and prearranged. 

There is no chorus of praise,
Inevitably, that's an act of faith.
Like no corset abound my waist,
Only orange, celibacy and rage.

However, It's yellow up for debate,
Yellow in me sees people change,
Yellow, to me sits out by the stage, 
Yells out in unison to the play.