The—Shaft broke, and the Shield wore off—
My Lance undone came, and thusly—;
Though I presumed all Enmity does is scoff,
Upon the slow and reluctant Recovery—
We, togetherly, became nearest friends.
’Tis how the—Fable ends—
Like the sibling of another’s—,
But in the World, tis no tale—
That we could've believed in others,
The One—whom all men hail—
Whilst they love us not—;
Just feel them now—never feel aught—
As the Bird needs the boots to wear—
And the noxious henchman need a Life—
Before the—Palace—and the Square—,
“Seek ye first” in the pestersome Afterlife—
Does not the Weight outdo the Chance,
Thus wonders the Earthworm to the Bird—
Or the morose—Occasion—to the even Circumstance?
But belief, the heaviest sword, all falls to a Word—
And we forget the ones we remembered,—in advance—.
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