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Put To Death In Writing

A table with books of poetry for sale.

Today is the day that I've been put to death in writing,

All the things I've ever imagined are gone.

The Chatterbox fills with people that know each other,

While I sit at the edge of the earth.

My spirit had ruptured and my lifeless body laid to rest,

My inkings are poetically still.

The room has displayed a certain foul odour around,

I'm certain its not me that smells.

My muse is dying like the breath of a new day in dreams,

When sunlight meets even the moon.

I'm certain if this world gets any cold I will die,

For I'm heartbroken by the talks.

I participate and group my life in writes I feel need said,

I look upon a person to listen to.

But when push comes to shove I'm a nobody to you,

The bitter silence quakes as I put my death in writing.

  • Author: Marianne Trox
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  • Category: Uncategorized
  • Views: 3
  • Date Published: