Monday, July 31, 2006

Dying Dreams

Here's another poem, but this one is rather melancholy though.

The sun dies over this concrete vista of rectangluar shapes, portruding from the sky and with it my dying hope. Tis that of a boy yet able to find solace whence it comes along.
These hours past have seen the last rays of light whither away, leaving me with nothing tangible. For with the dying light comes what I've been wishing for.


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