Poetry

A death that lives

You wear my soul out raining words

that chase me back into time

—into the joys I once found in them

and then into the grief that let my death live

O’ pain, have you not reached

the outskirts of my endurance

have you not lived your name?

PhotoCredit: www.imagekind.com

 

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One thought on “A death that lives

  1. some wounds never heal… until the mind of that wounded person stretches; there even though the wound might not be healed the fellow feels no pain. Get that thing which will eventually stretch your mind to the next level of living with pains to feel no pain.

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