julyA Poem by Periac
each morning day dressed
as poor as the previous tattered rags a home to a variety of self grown bacteria oh dear lady of crimson death care you not for white flesh? early grave painted brave stress stroll by on soft July puddles tricked was my own view and a trust chest stolen from a backwards peer through a telescope miles receeded comfort crave soul to save © 2008 Periac |
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Added on February 6, 2008 Last Updated on February 18, 2008 Author |