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Left Overs

Poetry By: devilrod

Just one before sleep catches me.

Submitted:Jul 31, 2008    Reads: 84    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   

In a building of extreme emotional impulse

Rabid frothing

Oh, a gentle reminder of the day

Nothing for granted

Nothing forsaken

The momentary lusting

The eternal hammer drop

Only in my head do these things ring out


My very heart pounds these nails into the wall

If not for a turbulent period

There would be no pursing or laughing

No concertos

No need for control

But who needs those things anyway, really

But really

Have you ever stopped to think

Well, you shouldn't

It takes up valuable territory

Where all property is worthless, if not constantly created

Freshly furrowed

Sewn and saturated

The reaping will come


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