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Rings of the unmarried

Everyone is taken, so it seems
Yet their hearts are alone in their lonely inns,
And even the skies bends like the drying fins.

Maybe it’s because a fingerling have no finger of a ring
And while they sing,
The lovebirds have lost their voice when love was a king…

Or because the aisle they once walked across
Now have bleeding footprints
Casted and engraved on the floor…

Love is false when the entrance to the room
Has a beautiful black painted floor
Fancy frames but a wide closed door.

Love and lust begot each other in fun
The days of jungle love is long gone
Now there to a branch, several fruits on

So in anticipation wait is served to woe
Hopefully for who to whom
They are most likely a second string to pull…

I opened the diaries of many ladies
Only to discover that babies will always be babies
And with the mind of a man, not all men are men for the roses…

The greatest joy to have isn’t a ring
But…. Home of a ring
That brings forth joy, and good tidings…

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