Bygone, Be Gone Poem by Blake Patrick Carter

You expeditious soul,
-Oh-, I can juncture,
what the world never saw.
Pick these bones,
with an erstwhile gnaw.

What the world never knew;
I keep locked away.
Saving bitter slumber.
For a warmer, tranquil day.

These thoughts I have,
like dandelions,
denounced with a forked tongue.

These years I've had,
satisfied without you,
now require gratification.

That which I can't feed,
is locked away.
It grows resentful everyday.