Down Hill
A glimmer of hope flashes upon the horizon.
My mistake as the barbed wire plays a cruel trick,
audasity to think!
Reflection of a once happy childhood.
Now morphs into a migraine.
winter leaves now lay dorment in the gutter,
once the vouge.
kites crash and burn without wind,
the result of my deal with the devil pawned soul.
End.
Copyright © Dean Wood | Year Posted 2011
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