The Sentence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 25, 2017

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Submitted: June 25, 2017



The flesh of the breed will fade

Away and languish in its pigment.

Though the light is shone upon us,

The night is never very far off.

All the debt becomes wealth.

The dollars lose their touch.

Branches unshackle their leaves,

As the winter holds us prisoner.

© Copyright 2018 Christopher Harold. All rights reserved.

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