Friday, June 5, 2020

The King of Bohemia

Your eyes seem from a different face.
They've seen that much, that soon.
Your cheek too cold --
Too pale to shine,
Like an old, and waning moon.

And there is no peace, 
No true release,
No secret place to crawl.
And there is no rest
For the ones God blessed
And He blessed
You best of all.

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