when i was a child in ages dark demons chased me through the park and angels though in charge in me laughed loudly at my misery
and when i finally tripped and fell you raised me with the hand of hell angel born and demon bred you introduced me to the dead
the dead whose wide and staring eyes were whiter than the winter skies who sat all night on fog wet benches sad sentinels of eternal trenches
the dead whose soft and wordless lips twisted like slowly sinking ships in black and bottomless seas in unreverberating reveries
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3 comments:
I wonder was it Central Park?
like the pace of this poem, and the rhyme is well weighted leading to the last line... great ending.
hope you're well timmy
will we ever stop being afraid of monsters?
I also liked the rhythm of this piece...I have to say it reminded me of the creatures who pursued me out of my curtains on cold winter nights... I could never tell the difference between the faces in the lace and faces in the frost...
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