The living dead holidaying at a tombstone locationA Poem by andrew mitchell
What becomes of today that yawns
and the dead of Poe are awaken telling tales of memories old into the night where the crooked mile was once the straight and narrow according to the raven’s eye. Back then time ruled and still does listening to howl of mortals cries. © 2025 andrew mitchellReviews
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2 Reviews Added on January 28, 2025 Last Updated on January 28, 2025 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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