The Youth and the Grave By Joshua Dolash

A match too tempting, a flicker unrelenting,
The cottage was downed by a stupid boy;
“And that, me lad”, I said, “was why I slapped the back of your head!”
It is a decade later, why couldn’t he grow any brighter
Now everyone calls him the town’s blighter
Irrefutably, time will not rewind for re-correction
If he just stopped and listened to conviction!
Return, oh prodigal son; ignore not Lady Wisdom’s call,
Who gives you life so that you will not fall.
Do you really want to gain many a foe? If so, then to the sea you shall go!
With chains to slow your steps in the deep, cold snow.

Yet like the pride of a donkey, he proceeded toward pit and snare.
He thought himself wise beyond compare,
However, grief and stupidity adopted this stubborn son.
Ah, look there! His constant tripping is done
He’s fallen down, down where no one offers a hand.
And there, forever, the grave’s hunger of foolish souls is in demand!

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