Work in Progress (unfinished)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I haven't finished this one yet

Submitted: January 13, 2008

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Submitted: January 13, 2008

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Father, that which we do not say I still mean,

 Just as the earths deadly centre must be kept at its core

 Or an animal must be caged in a zoo,

There are some things, if to which we are exposed

Are too powerful for me and you.  

 

All moments are coated in a winter’s frost, 

 Which I must admit has thawed in recent years,

 Seen some summers heat, as we have grown older

You say that you would be happy to live to sixty two,

 Knowing  there is so much more for you to see

 

 Yet despite your heroic desires to be forgotten

I ask Father, do you not see that you will die with me


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