A heavy stone skimming across a mill-pond.
The sound of half a duck quacking.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Windows of Lost Hope
Surely life was more than Lying naked to a stranger Watching as the glass eye Slowly drains your soul Blink, Dispell the mists of dream Dig beneath the surface scars Hope is so much more than light, Than filling the black hole.
1 comment:
Only slightly disturbing.
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