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This Poem Kills Me

By Ian Lalusin | Category :: Poem

Meadow flooded with gray
leaving sheep astray
Blue sea turns blue
'tis the loneliest place i ever knew

Blood shed above east
This cold wind is but the least
a mending ground from shake can feel
after on its chest, sharp thorns dwell

This poem tries to draw a lovely curve
on world's face I almost cursed
it writes lines of pretense-blurred
with wicked borrowed force

'tis failure, the service I don't get
but frowning is never to make a face of regret
'coz everything that's left is just vanity
I don't care anymore, this poem kills me

By Ian Lalusin | Jun 26, 2014 | Category > Poem >Death | Comments | Views 3473


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