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Published: 2009-10-28 16:59:43 +0000 UTC; Views: 139; Favourites: 2; Downloads: 3
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Description
Here is DeathLife without breath
Gray Days of poison-cloud
Living in a burial shroud
Bloody sun which always sets
The wicked and weary never rest
Voo-doo rites control the people
and on the ground, a broken steeple
Rock and pavement, noise and clang
No one cares about your name
Your life you love
My death, I shove
away to wild, earth and air
Nevermore returning where
faceless people in a crowd
cluster like leaves upon a bough
found in November, after a storm
not even good to keep me warm
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Comments: 2
AngelOnMyBedroomwall [2009-10-28 17:02:24 +0000 UTC]
I just love it!
you capture the meaning of november is such great words
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
WordsofWinter In reply to AngelOnMyBedroomwall [2009-11-17 04:55:42 +0000 UTC]
Thank you! I'm really glad you liked it
👍: 0 ⏩: 0







