![]() HIS CURSEA Poem by CrusaderscrossHe sits, blinded by reccuring
thoughts of what was Face riddled with years of boredom He wonders "WHAT IF ?" Cursed by the gift of timeless existence His imagination cannot be emptied All that is left for him is...everything All he can do is count the seconds until... But he know there is no end © 2010 CrusaderscrossReviews
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2 Reviews Added on July 29, 2010 Last Updated on July 29, 2010 Author
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