Dolor

Dolor’s olde English archaic word
Feels sad even after our centuries,

A soft fine dust collecting invisibly
On and around centuries of living

And in tongues evolving over time
And green bench remains for olde

On whom dolor sits pretty in green.
Green is a Shakespearean jealousy

In eyes, monstrous and protruding,
Emotional deaths on tragic stages.

Dolor is green on old park benches
With dust on our bones and minds.

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