The Black & White Poet

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I can run, but I believe I will not find, the corners or ends of this place.

Pacing forth my insoluble shadow,
Two degree below zero.
Minor notes shriek on the piano
Too distant is each hero.

Each icicle dribbles its tears…
Seeping inside the spirit.
To face the reflection in the mirror,
But too never hear it.

My destinations seem cryptic,
And my goals cloaked in the dirt.
Missions crippled with doubt,
And road-less skies to hurt.

The locks inside are freezing pain.
I have tried to scream out load.
As I'm left cuffed to an endless chain,
My freedom of speech is bound.

~DaYnA e. 12/15/03

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