You wore this crown of thorns
Form of this night, approaches in narrow aisles
My impiety upon your valor, my tuning falsity
of a brass bugle, a sound coarse, for miles
A foolishness! I welcome my solitude's asperity.
Do I have some time? Maybe of this, or of another
bright celebration, of a four dimensional space
a costume any customer of odds will wear in order,
my insight on any defined routes to only trace.
Do I have some varnish? To use upon my buttons
of nautilus blue jacket as to exit, a visitor of bars
or soul betrayal; A parallelism to faded blossoms
my old friends wear, an emblem of internal scars.
Can I forget my crimson? My wound, my odd incision
of my swaying abolished soul, a thorn maybe to blunt
as if my quill instates an idol on foolish mission?
As if you wore this crown of thorns, of my stand?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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