HOME OF THE FLOWING PEN
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Lain (A Retort Of The Heart)
It was left there in a grave of uncertainty
Buried by reality, and it's keepers
Shunned by care in this cold world
No farewells, no callers, no weepers...
Alive, it was embraced with their ridicule..
This fragile, forgotten thing, here lain
Mourned only by those that gave it life
Trying to resuscitate in torrents of rain
A shrill cry breaks through the silence
A vow that will not be dismissed
With tears and fists, now clenching..
Cast to the heavens, beyond the mists...
Damn you! you will not slay my dream!
Love will live on....
~THE FLOWING PEN~