Wednesday, 18 May 2011


You're the creator
Of something
You do not want to be
The cape out of my skin
Peel it off
Make my skeleton freeze
As the face would fall
Fingers burning the eyes
The chandelier above
You hung it
Back when nothing had changed
When I had watched
And the prose were gone
Let the structure collapse
A few naked strips

Everything Should Be In This Title

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