‘Tis A Pity

‘Tis a pity

That I take such joy from self destruction,

I do not wish to say I do not enjoy construction,

but retain a childish glee,

when it comes to self desecration.

‘Tis a pity

That I choke on nerves,

and can only express myself in a medieval manner,

I fear I shall never find another,

Who has slipped through the cracks.

‘Tis a pity

How far away you are,

For distance tempts and taunts me,

Into old behaviours

And brings my structures earthwards once more.

‘Tis a pity

That I write rather than solve,

That my toils fester on paper,

And rather than shrivel in the sunlight,

Grow larger than my being.

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