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78
breathing not with gulls but air,
I gasp when I wake from nightmares,
I wish my heart gave up as sleeping
the wraiths will snatch my death.
There's ground dust to bare,
and the memories won't dare,
not with my living memories
and cancellation of the fleet.
What talents snatch as the flair
sleeps on one side of the despair
and angels flew away
and you lost the will to weeping
and the rabbit hole is not so deep
as angst buries the once of dreams,
Its cruel to give and take my fields
that are in this old house so sealed,
My father and his cheap burial...
Ends on a piano note of I wish
he would say something to quarrel
I see his disgust in his expressions.
Copyright ©
RGH Poetry
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