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The Dying Light

Listen to these words I came this far to say, I am always a bitter breeze of forgotten things, A mystery in the wake of silence. A talent of jaded memories to be replaced by something simple. I am distant in the rise of dawn, A player in a wondrous game of fields and forests I am quick to run, A stream of calm waters flowing throughout the ways. A theme of trying justice without the will to impart A quarter of rigid ground to hard to bare anything Too wide to know why. Too simple to care. Thus remaining a bitter breeze of forgotten things

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 10/18/2018 1:11:00 AM
A beautiful personification poem! Wow!
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