Member Poem

So he made it his habit to find paths to stray
And at night he would sleep in the depths of a cave

He scoured his way through the stitches of time
But he bottled himself in the basement at night
When he got to the edge there was nothing to see

Being borne by dread, he was patiently ill
With his sorrow all spent, he would purchase his might
And at night he would sleep in the depths of a cave

Receding from sight, and conjoined with the dim
He had tired and tightened his grip on his plight
When he got to the edge there was nothing to see

Confused and endangered he battered his sum
Kept old dignity tightly affixed to his loss
And at night he would sleep in the depths of a cave