simply horble

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

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