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Corner Pub #2
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He who talks to the dead
Junior Member
since 2003-07-08
Posts 30
Newport, United Kingdom

0 posted 2003-07-15 08:51 PM


I am a prisoner of my own fate,
The hand of destiny draws me near,
Lingering words whispered on the wind,
Give voice to my nameless fear.

Even though I have worked hard to fight it,
Tried ever so hard to break away,
Pounded away at the tall walls of rock,
With fists bloodied and raw I'm okay.

The blood from my wounds must drip always,
Leaving a trail for you to follow me down,
To an abyss where life and death have no meaning,
On the floor there lays the shards of my crown.

I see so clearly but have been blinded,
My soul cries out in the night,
The ties I have accepted must of binded,
On the path there is no end in sight.

I wonder just where this is leading,
Somewhere I have never been before,
The door opened and I stepped through it,
To a world where gold lined the floor.

The tale is almost over,
My story as with others is done,
Don't break the heart full of shadows,
And just maybe we both will have won.

© Copyright 2003 Paul Anthony Grycuik - All Rights Reserved
Joyce Johnson
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State
1 posted 2003-07-15 09:24 PM


A sorrowful tale, well told.  Joyce
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