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Sunday, March 18, 2012

a poem

These flower petals are withered and dead
they no longer rest on a mortal bed
but instead, they raise their corporeal head
to obey the wisdom of god, they said

Too much to do, so little time,
things are so hard, I'm trapped in a rhyme,
i can't do anything, I've lost my control
my spirit is dumb, and my body is old

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