Creative_Writing

Witnesspals Writings
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Ezoic
2003-03-12 03:44:35 (UTC)

Poem 25

Poem 25
Such am I, a sorrowful soul,
despair doth my dissposition bear,
fettered hands, bound in self contempt,
not as such the mournful cries I carry,
whom am I, as such no bell tolls for me,
as one for which the world no longer does care,
no interference, no deeds of circumvent,
no disconsolate dissdane, as one I bury,
I do remain, the same as I never was,
one as none and none as all,
never I can be the longer of the beautiful,
you have gone and raised all countanence,
the expectation of the never raising fullfilment,
the non objective nullification of our mortal beings,
our rythemic dance with the brushes of the end,
salvation, a fleating promise of tommrow,
an image distorted in my mind,
seen as my eyes see through the darkness,
my own personal dream with in a dream,
my selfish fleating pursuits

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