mr fitzroys dream

nothingness,mocking thyself,
cloning itself ,like a fist thats
about to open,then close,like
a rose,pointing itself to the
sun,,it begs for heat,and rain
from the clouds,and finds only
nothingness,still with audible
words ,it curses thyself, then
folds itself back into a dream..

Poetry by david gerardino
Read 661 times
Written on 2006-12-15 at 03:43

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