Dear Confidante
Dear Confidante, here are these
Memories you may have given a miss
Given how you like mystery
In those you love, and, thus, yours truly
Shall appear to be most human and dross
Beyond compare, perhaps a bit gross,
And the uneasy pity on your face
Certainly looks to have its place.
Dear Confidante, make no mistake,
Noble emotion, pity, when not fake
And serving its purpose, I believe, I do,
It to be genuine when coming from you
But despite that, I must confess
That I don’t find them the raw weakness
of a shelled crab, a tortoise turned,
But what makes me new, as a phoenix burnt.
Dear Confidante, these are no
Chinks in armour, as they go,
But scales of it, pain-forged, no less strong
Than the lightest notes of an immortal song
Which sung or silent, turns ever bright
When passed from mind to a shared sight,
A fire that, now, free from harm,
May also keep you strong and warm.
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