Saturday, 8 October 2016


Sins do vanish,
luck holds blemish,
what hath night done?
Wake up smell thy sun,
coloured shadows doth,
like wrapping in cloth.
Oh, ye sweet moocher,
cursed rusty heart vulture,
brittle struggles yolden,
yot thy hearts golden, 
thou careless author,
thee indite a rethor. 

"Brittle Struggles"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha


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