Tongue of disorder, call of unrest
That which lines the shelves of my room
The morbid hoarder, my solace repressed
Has led the seed of sorrow to bloom
They all expel a most profound pain
Which to my homely cell constrain
Wherever I may cast my earthly gaze
To sights and wonder outside my home
Memory doth flay into a nostalgic daze
It makes this world unbearable to roam!
And yet these things I hold so dear
For as long as they are, you still feel near
My torture will come once again tomorrow
For that is the sickness, the sickness of sorrow…
31st August - 2023