We’re all frail
To ache is human
The present world
levels us into trembling
Human gobbling human
But we must recall that
we’re all shaky
We all quiver
When your family scoffs at you,
you won’t rise from lowering them
But only acquiescent saints
wouldn’t feel the compulsion
When you and your beloved spar,
over which of you sent the offending text,
are either of you not fallen?
And when you hear a child laugh
Take that pristine music
Treasure it amid the hurricane
By Oliver Cocks
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