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Dec 2010
I feel each day pass me by
Without a word, without a cry;
Desire wells up at the gentle tease
Of the fresh and alive, god-child sea breeze.
The food I eat is damp and stale,
Stolen from the life I cannot exhale.
And worst of all, the people, real,
Going about their business still
Ignorant to the one that hides
Beneath their feet, breathing lies.
Written by
D S Caillte
754
 
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