The Lost

Who would have proclaimed
him lost, he who’s always there

Who would have searched with
a heart filled with distress, he who’s with listening ears

That he would not fill your soul
with tears, everything is a burden
to bear

Having not, our love is enamoured
with fear

A lack of interest, is strangely
error and equal carouse with dirt

Thankful, the temple is erected
on three wounded stairs

Seek and you would find
him there

MO.