An Evening’s Speculation

by sentimentalsurrealist

If love is an ocean,
let me drown.
Its billowing crescents
white horses.

If time is an arrow,
fire away.
From all of the present’s
remorses.

If each man a king, then
they obey
the laws that the peasant
endorses.

As red cities’ armies
on the march
increases and lessens
its forces. 

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