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Oh, how shallow is the Soul  
when complaining is all it knows.  
 
Such a rehearsed liturgy of murmuring  
reigns supreme  
a proclamation  
of desolation  
to the ears of its cohearsed.  
 
So pitiful a life in that state  
to disarm  
and  
procure  
at that alarming rate.  
 
Like the Portuguese Man O' War  
that follows the ebbs  
and  
tides  
to vainly capture one unknown  
and  
simply hold them till they die.  
 
Oh, how shallow is the Soul  
when complaining is all it knows.  
tgj 
 
C.L. Mareydt d23  
 


------
C.L. Mareydt


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by C.L. Mareydt





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