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Mar 2017
the behemmoth distracted misanthropic lens falls wayside for a moment, i saw you beautiful in frail light as it dimmed to a dullards thoughts again, you could never catch that distracted wandering thought, never put your finger on the distant far cornered cry, bewildered you wept for it, still a blind beggar in a land of evil seers. one morning you awoke unshackled and having a drunkards clarity you spoke, but you spoke too soon, no one heard you and no one cared.
Alan Harley Clark
Written by
Alan Harley Clark  California
(California)   
358
 
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