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Poetic ink Dotted in blacks Paint the page Still something lacks Memories wiped my painted dreams Ripped me solid along faded seams Belong I do not by any accord Words are my muse Left at the door Taken away in slumber by night Nothing forbidden Defused by the light Afraid what might come in wonderless waves Walked straight on into pitch black caves Written on the walls stories are told My muse left alone The ink will be bold
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
Left at the Door
Poetic ink Dotted in blacks Paint the page Still something lacks Memories wiped my painted dreams Ripped me solid along faded seams Belong I do not by any accord Words are my muse Left at the door Taken away in slumber by night Nothing forbidden Defused by the light Afraid what might come in wonderless waves Walked straight on into pitch black caves Written on the walls stories are told My muse left alone The ink will be bold
Poetry that leaves an impression on people will be bold in contract
silent-screams
Written by
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
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