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Broken bottles

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  • Broken bottles

    think about the lies the truth
    hear my voice a stupid youth
    entranced by the promise of more
    earning to see beyond the door
    bottles on the floor voices in my head
    rarely able to think to mourn the dead
    over the sea of problems I try to escape
    keen eyes still find in it no true shape
    escape impossible misery immanent

    until we are free out souls still remain
    still in the rooms alone and in pain

  • #2
    This is one of my old poems I found in a chat from forever ago

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    • #3
      Your topics are serious - or at least seriously presented - and glad you brought this one back for posting!

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