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May 2016
Monday to forget Sunday and Saturday.
Tuesday to plan Wednesday.
Thursday to remember Thursday.
Friday.

In the bathroom I polish my mirror.
Turning the hourglass wondering what I've lost.

"You've found nothing and so, you've lost nothing."

The voice of angel Death.
Heard only when I lose consciousness under bath water.
Rise again, search for God's scrutiny.
Wipe my eyes, blot my nose.
I fail to glimpse my siren.

Ah, a time to reflect.
A collection to publish.
A thought to be sharpened.
No.

Only words to be ignored.,
Tragedy
Robert Carroll Spear
Written by
Robert Carroll Spear  ...
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