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Aug 2011
Well if you're dead on your feet,
untie it from the ground.
Swimming in deep oceans of solitude,
drown just hearing the sound.
I found you caught adrift in the open sea.
Eyes like cold winter noses,
crimson and sunken like dead roses.
Could you spare a story for me?
Tell me,
Tell me.
Where did you come from,
and where do you belong?
But you must not understand me.
For your world is not where I am from.
but here to my world you come.
Is it finally that we've become a part of the universe?
Has our race of this carbon make up woe your being?
Such questions.
Only your answers to make peace for me.
But our tongues crash as they begin to speak.
Though your words are not so clear.
Mine do not bring fear.
I promise you so that these eyes are quite sincere.
Now hold out your hand,
bring it forth to mine
and I will show you the warmth of which we have eyes for.
Written by
Kenneth Fox
562
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