Like dreams, unfulfilled
By vithano
Like dreams, unfulfilled, we float Our phantoms to the soil, Resigned. We shall never rise again, for, having once laid these hopes to rest, the damp earth receives our breath like seeds that one day sprout flowers of dead dismay. Nor shall the sun see our spite again, for our souls are sunken beneath the surface of society, though not yet forgotten, very much dead. Six feet beneath your busy feet Lies the flesh of my discontent, That flowers feed on; Those deeds left undone, and the Million words unspoken Toss and turn in the grave --- Those dreams of the dead, though left unspoken, Are debts unpaid, and pale bones broken. Written November 13th, 2001 © on Nov 13 2001 08:42 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Like dreams, unfulfilled, we float ..."