Cover Image

An original poem:


Spun around in my way

In a world pude and grey.

Woven deeply like a sore

Never healing.

A fork in the clearing 

A shaded dusk like none others seen,

Finely shaded and molded green.

Forest on fire like a funeral parlor,

Death unbecoming like a doornail splitting.

A spitting image of your childhood

comes to graces.

A million towns, A million faces

A facade you're unaware of 

Later becomes so repetitive,

And you see this repetition 

Day in and day out

Find no meaning, 

A memory you're asked to retrace.

One of which you have no recollection

Yet you've been to certain places before

Certain people you've met,

and can't reason why.

The time shrivels and passes you by.

You're still unaware that of that facade,

it never crosses your egotistical mind

That before you've lived this life

You've also lived mine.


Created: Feb 07, 2011


Babbish Document Media