parchedly it suckles on the least drop of hope

and love to a heart is but poisonous venom
brings ecstasy first, then pins you down to the ground

and hope is the worst, this disingenuous brat
untamedly rules over the course to our fate

blood that was drawn, covering the polished marble
is telling a story so brutally honest

a heart is to pain, as a drink is to drunkards
willingly, it pours another round to the weak

and sober is no one but the heart of the dead
who left their hearts to rot under six feet of soil

daisies on their graves, shaded, craving for the sun
as the heart that once beaten for a faint beam of love

(copyright Kieper 2020)

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