Dreams of youth

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by Jack Rabbit, Jun 5, 2009.

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  1. Jack Rabbit

    Jack Rabbit Well-Known Member

    I remember being killed.
    Soft. Smothering. On my face.
    What is the option to breath?
    Even crying was to myself.
    No one listened. None fulfilled.
    No time. No space.
    Staring at me – the evil angel of death.
    A mirror - it is my self.
     
  2. Remedy

    Remedy Chat & Forum Buddy

    I like this, it leaves an empty feeling.
     
  3. Petal

    Petal SF dreamer Staff Alumni SF Supporter

    I also enjoyed reading this :)
     
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