CoronachA Poem by Nobody.Coronach The true purpose is but a murmur shared between clandestine shadows. Your fears are quite rational. Those nay-saying head doctors are meat puppets. Snakes in your pillows and clowns in your closet are inconsequential when compared with the midnight scuffles within your cells. When your dog barks at nothing, and your wife is trapped under her blue sleeping pill, it’ll be there listening to your cut-time breath; devising the perfect finale to an imperfect cantata. © 2011 Nobody.Featured Review
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Added on February 9, 2011Last Updated on February 9, 2011 Author
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