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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #1595048
A very amatuer stab at attempting to write poetry.
Here I sit,
Late at night,
Wide asleep,
And yet I write.
Words back up,
Behind this dam,
There I was,
And here I am.
Words forsake me,
Now my dear,
As I sit within,
Your darkness here.
Dare I hope,
Or even dream?
Ahh, to sleep,
Perchance to scream?
I see the men,
In tombs of white,
Who grasp the darkness,
And shun the light!
Who lead the blind,
Straight to hell,
And forget the day,
When Lucy fell!
© Copyright 2009 Bishop Black (ivinhuff1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1595048-The-Day-Lucy-Fell