Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by yesterdaytodaytomorrow, Nov 27, 2007.

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  1. Loss
    Cascading flaws of mine alone,
    Aimlessly empty the eyes;
    Failing me, breaking this porcelain façade,
    Whilst I smile and continue in line.
    Relentless the hand with your chisel,
    As my brain weeps, and my blood thins;
    To choose, could this purpose, be more than my punishment,
    As the feet dance in fates blue hot rings.
    Thunder burns in the innocent hearts,
    Of a laced and mantled breath;
    She foots a pathway, fate conclude,
    And falls into this foreign skinned dress.
    Lightly thrown, by those who should,
    As she catches with broken wrist frost,
    Swept through by laws of her loyal devout,
    She equates to this imbalanced loss.
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