Here I go through the frowning ‘middle-game’

Long time, It is not over yet. Until then,free from the hinges which bond together us all in in inorderly disgrace. Thine master is a 'wanting man' Thine mistress is awaiting to-morrow, Let the mistress be my soul, The days of ecstasy are gone. Winter is coming. See me through it, My friend. I'm the night watchman of my grenadine.
The happiness and the bloom,
It is all over now.
I am wishing for so much,
There is nothing left to let be.

I wish I could dance to 'Lana Del Rey' every night and dance until my feat would ache so bad,
That I would lie down on my bed body flat thoughts twirled,
And write a poem that can change the world.

I wish I could stand here,
And watch,
And write whatever I want,
Like a bird's call in the wild,
So lovely but so perforated.

I wish I could just spend,
And live forever,
Between those lines of prose so powerful that they stopped wars and changed winds,
Until I find myself with words of my own,
That I could treasure like the single gold in a poor man's treasury.

I wish I could collide the festivals and kneeling birders to create poetry, Which is warm inside of my colon like a gun.
I'll fire it forever, so you can suffer in shameful scent.
I wish I could eat the rotten world aloof, Like the sausages in my food. I'd pay a penny for a thought to come, That would give me a midnight sunset, An hour wrong after the cold winter noon.
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