Open Poetry #30 |
011904-04:07:49 |
Masked Intruder
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-05-23
Posts 1231Near golden sunsets |
I burn in ebb with the clock's last ticks and cry with sadness at its now bleeding hands and smileless face as I pick the dead shards up from the dirtied floor. -*-*- |
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© Copyright 2004 Philip Zemler - All Rights Reserved | |||
Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Very dark, as watching the clock can often be. |
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