Life wanes with eager poetry
Of sentient silence and debauchery
The troubled and their grandeur- guests
To life that we realists foresee.
The angels weep for innocence
While lamentations beget lasciviousness
and devils simply tell the truth
Sultry, sweating joy of youth.
And I between the waking world and sleep
Honesty is all that I entreat
To those I call my inner circle
Woe is dull lest you've beaten its hurdle.
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