An Urn Of Discontent

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Haunted by regret
Within the now and the not yet
I am an urn of discontent.

Prone to forget
The place where dreams are kept
And my hours are so illspent.

Like fish in a net,
My fingers frozen on the fret
Of once hopeful heart’s instrument.

My visions built a statuette,
Pierced by life’s bayonet.
Still I worship the crumbling monument.

Haunted by regret
Within the now and the not yet
I am an urn of discontent.

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