I Am Not a Ghost
Under my clock whose time is froze
Resides a flock of restless crows
Restless myself I walk with woes
As if I hurt my head
And by itself a door would close
To my room that's ahead
My room has secrets no one knows
With walls of wood and black windows
The eerie feel of darkness blows
Her blouse upon my bed
Between the night she comes and goes
And I believe she's dead
Rime Couee
7-3-11
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