Sound,whatssoundA Poem by Matt ChevalierTouching clouds and roundabouts- I'll be a softly shifting snow. Native bridges crumble as they'reEaten by the sea- Consciousness is a whim- A time to end things, The struggle with eloquence With all the slippery words. I find myself everywhere I find myself dying in your palm
© 2013 Matt Chevalier
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Added on February 5, 2013 Last Updated on February 5, 2013 Author
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