My Lurking, Abusing Anxiety


It was the ides
She sailed the tides
That lie in front of he

Her paint was novel
Green and white sparkle
She meandered the sea

Through the fog, did she wind
The stars weren't aligned
Where should this beauty be

If she only had protection
And caring direction
When he gave her light to see

The light was high, hot on his tower
He worked in this late hour
So that, from darkness, she was free

With false hope afflicted
She couldn't have predicted
That the lighthouse was empty

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