BaneA Poem by CatTime: the bane of our existence. Form: the Irish Droignech.
Now resonates the Reaper’s reckoning.
Swinging in silence, there the pendulum oscillates. Destructor who liquidates life stands beckoning as the seconding clock crashes, and time culminates. © 2012 CatAuthor's Note
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Compartment 114
Compartment 114
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Added on May 4, 2012 Last Updated on May 4, 2012 Tags: bane, time, inevitable, clock, destruction, death, irish form, irish, ireland, droignech AuthorCatMadison, MSAboutI'm a feminist southern belle Classicist video gamer, thank you very much. more..Writing
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