A Woe Of Words

only the street lamps stand now
could you spare me a light?

alas ive deceived myself
and paint the night sky blue
alas the dimness in the pen
to imprecate myself with deceit
of the banal that clothe itself with panache
artless though may be
least without a taint; i attest

only the street lamps stand now
could you spare me a light?

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