Through here this age we see a man
soon, too destined for love’s final draw
A nobler one ne’er took the stand
for naught to see his final straw.
A nip of taint and a kiss of sin
he draws his sinned breath again
a broken spirit cauled (made) from gin,
he longs to till the soil once dug in
his youth--a bastardized new phrase
of which his peers will cut and spit
a person living out of phase,
a pendulum within a pit.
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