Nostalgia For What Shall Never Be
Tangled in confusion, a nomadic disenchantment,
Comraderie, we thought it was, is apethic callous,
Yet still exists a languid hope for remants of a promise,
That one day amoretto though absturce and in concealment,
Will find itself exposed to the vainglory of revealment,
Then Philanderous fancy shall alter to enamor,
And our creases of affection will sonor into furrow,
Reconciling want to be's in sorrow of tomorrow,
But once the dream is dared upon will fancy turn to nightmare?
The vicious trend could end of wanting in our recollection,
If nostalgia felt for false could cause feigned memory to be?
What is and what shall never be.
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