the monotony of the stuck stylus
regret is like that dilapidated rondavel
the sanctuary of a fool
wallowing in thick melancholy
leaving the leafy suburbs of hope
the well manicured lawns of bliss
the dead leaves of sadness swept away
the chirping birds of harmony
everywhere their myriad songs resonating
fetching water in a basket
sitting on the broken chairs of regret
that sanctuary of the fool
those that shatter conservatism live on
finding lots of happiness in sadness
tearing to shreds the veil of regret
the toilet must now be flushed
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