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Mosaic
Poems
Nov 2016
Too Close to tell who is Who
I'll be the pyramids you'll be the sky
The clothing shorn
In wasteland we are born
Where do we go now
Forgotten places
Forgotten time
Love and love me not
Wilted flowers and lost thoughts
The radio is in the street
Columns creaking in defeat
We're feeding ourselves to the fire
Injecting dreams
self dissonance
We walk in the desert calling it home
In fire born
In wasteland
The clothes are shorn
I'll be the sky you'll be the pyramids
Written by
Mosaic
United States
(United States)
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