Did I last night stiffen cold?
My hands all waxy, thin and old
Have I dreamt my years away
Til body loses soul?
Have I found no heart to save,
But polished stone of granite grave?
In slumber, did my youth decay
And leave me no control?
I fear my face is sunken deep
A hollow where my dry eyes weep
Their heavy sobs of sorrow
Crawling down my bony cheek
I feel my muscles move no more
With glassy eyes, my outlook poor
I once had strength to borrow
Now I won't stop growing weak














Comments
i enjoyed reading it very much.
im favoriting.
I'll check out some of your work tonight for being the first to comment ^-^
--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg
--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg
--
Wgah'nagl.
Cthulhu ftaghn.
--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg
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