Thursday, June 26, 2014

Torn from Self

 
To be pried away
From this rotting matter
These ailing contours
I am cursed to inhabit

And to peer outward
Stripped of all dismay
Shall surely salvage
My havoc laden conscience

Into the greater opus
The bustling span of wilderness
I shall be replenished
Reaping, the earth’s timeless fables

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