A Daily Poem

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“Doth pride command the will to drown itself?”

Asks a proud Happy Tears, looking under.

Harshly, The Devil says, “Why so? The graph

Shows figures that abide.”, The wrong plunder.

A lousy excuse for a coffee sits

In their palms’ depths, safely nestled far away.

The scene emits itself with modern tricks;

Foreign objects around closed in, the sway

Of the world’s fake, holy, “smartest” beings’

“Wisdom”. Correct as any lad that lived. 

‘Round gathered the dust in favor of kings,

As doth the coming of darkness; a gift

From the ashes, making nothing! A sad

Reflex of the habit. No talk was had.

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