Well, while thinking on worlds and worrisome notions
Of past heart's delight and present's forgotten
And rummaging rummaging through nostalgia's collection
A thought just dawned,
"I wasn't meant for their world"
Troubling sounding, rolling off the lips,
I fear not it's ire, sound, or lament
For not Death, sentenced for we
More liken to a tune not befitting to our melodies
Yours, not bad, not even a bit
In fact seeming wonderful, a grand jubilant
How I wish my stringed whosit, my unique instrument
Could enter your company, could enjoy your accompaniment
So with a sigh I do leave you
Though no tear to shed
If we do meet once again
Be it then my greatest delight
If not, alas (woe upon woes),
There however are no mortal perils
No breakings or tearings or big detonations
Just the emptiness of an emptiness
In a world where I do not belong
-A Friend
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