Thursday, April 26, 2007

He secretly hopes for death
A passive protest of life
Left alone with his breath
He can't help but choke on the fight
Friends all around him, but homeless at best
Needs to be more grounded, thrown from the nest
Always lost in thought, the sepulcher of his mind
The manor in the graveyard, chosen divine
The light of day an illusion, even ogres can shine

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