Rejection, dejection are they not of the same mantras?
Dealing with somethings or someone’s multitude of dramas?
For there once was a tale of a pure loves promise
Left open to the world empty and searching for its true awmous
But alas! The empty yearning lays in its wake, waiting for the poor innocent love to break
Dark clouds travel and the sad birds screech their morose melody far and wide
And in the slithers of existence pure love has to hide
For that dreaded feel of cold distance and warisome makings of hot bladed subjection
Are the exact ingredients to create the typhoon of feelings we call rejection