Poem Hunter
AA (27.jan / )



faulty heights dreams of life healing
a lost soul.
the false idols of worship slowly feeling
the pain of this perpendicular moments...
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never occurs to man that time will come
sitting still waiting for the motion as the
overwhelming wave hits you direct in the
head losinig control of of the paddles and
aiming to the unkempt.

washing with dry water the emortal wounds
of time as it hits the body like a bleeding rose
losing its colour and making it bland to life

listen up as it hits a clockless from a practicle
body standing in the cold wet sun that is warm
in the pits of my aching heart

never look the opening of th wound as the past will
slash and slice you ponder not on the sense of what
it could have been today but that of what you will
a stronger mended heart just trust time it will come
and be part of your telling smart looks

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