In Each

There dropped slight hum upon bird's nest - not cool!
And this they murmur rumour and tack to spoil.
That was when L. was bombarded with text,
At whose wall spelt shame upon its screen,
A bruised ego would cast its hell to fame;
O Languish, and think of what you think
For it be better taken steps back than more,
At last and least no response was made.
Drums would fell, drums would dare,
A beating heart coursing blood of no congeal,
A racing vein with none but reins to depart,
Wild are the eyes that have seen in rage;
Yet so blessed are those in God pursue,
But such rage keeps beating, and hearts waging,
So cool was skin, so dry were lips; none would care.
So be it! The each of them be cursed at thought.
So laugh, and let chokes give more their laugh.
Ere comedies and plays retire to dust and fox,
So each of us know friend and foe by eye,
Then know rope to cut and string untie today.