Drift AwayA Poem by After the Blackbird SingsThe respirator breathing taps a kind of rhythm and poetry To this death Watching, waiting We're all coming to an end called "Stuck in the Mud" To witness Midst the wheezing, the hospital whine, the slow waiting, watching Your torturous ascension to the Anywhere Is Better Than Here I'm writing to the rhythm Your unnoticed hymn As you share in the glory Hallelujah Glory, glory I'll drift away © 2008 After the Blackbird SingsFeatured Review
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Added on October 11, 2008Author
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