By k poetry
Sometimes time do stop. Stop and hides. Moonlight can't reach down now, it's to dry. Indians are speaking the silent language. Hunted by demons, owner of peace. Can you hear the distant music? It's silent but clear. It's the hymn of death. Written June 5th, 2001 © on Jun 05 2001 02:37 AM PST 0 • 1
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"Sometimes time ..."
Author:k poetry
Source:AllPoetry
"Sometimes time ..." by k poetry
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