simply horble
Aug 24, 2017 · 1 min read

cry his tears, let them drizzle, think all thoughts of fire
withhold your beers till they unfizzle, their dull effects expired
you will not stop the man from wreck, you may not pill his crash
your whispers of all things made right, will not his neck ungash
a firework of “let’s forget” will drown the spark you fight for
leave at home your well-writ tome, explaining “that’s what night’s for.”
— Yea, let him howl the whine of dearth, deny him not its dreg
for you will not quite mend the man til he’s limped that horble leg

