GrinA Poem by Ink of GrandeurGrin of the dead, the lost and still, Moan of the gone and meek. Cry on the mossy silent hill, A whisper, then a shriek.
© 2012 Ink of Grandeur |
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Added on November 16, 2012 Last Updated on November 16, 2012 AuthorInk of GrandeurRidgecrest, CAAboutI'm the bag that the cat was in, and the closet some come out of. Civility and society are beautiful, and order is the brother of faith. more..Writing
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