1:1.618

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Memories to keep warm with, but the fires glow burns me.

Submitted: June 21, 2011

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Submitted: June 21, 2011

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What sort of heaven are we stepping into, one disguised but is hell? The path is not lit so figures seem blurred and lost to me…

The luck of gold seemed to of died, and the luck of the devil replaced in its stead.

I met a bird underneath a beautiful moon, the only light that could shine in the dark world.

Fly away said the bird, and all I could say is I’ve lost my wings. Stuck at a crossroad with no choice in which direction to go, so I’m lost to a dream that was worth any pain that follows…a bird that will always be in my heart…

I cross empty fields on faded wings, feathers long fell off due to the cold chill that follows behind me. So what happens when something free becomes something lost and bound to the ground, with only wishes to keep company as it sets out alone again. Memories to keep warm with, but the fires glow burns me.


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