The sun rises and looks
To my west for rest
Mama waters the garden
Anticipating youth to bloom
A microcosm of sadness
The ground is filled with memories rotting
A worm finds it's tapered end
A cycle completes
It is finished, he exclaims
Silence. So be it.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
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