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I only wish I could

Grow more,
Be gently
Forget the sore...

I always got tears in my eyes
Lament of possibilities unfulfilled
Sorrows for past futures not drilled
Still virgin on the barren plane,
Or part of a plague, another,
Were dreamers are chasen by the Dryer,
Imposing a law around the dark tower.
 
Phallic esoteric edifice, hommage
To an ancient curse once in a magic page.
 
And so I stood, belittled among stones,
Fetid influenzas,
Things undone, “horrendas”
Contagion over shattered bones.
Other works by M Genth...



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