Friday, September 28, 2012

poem #1


Four walls closing in
 The room is getting smaller



Lost in the day
Rambling with Non-completed
Sentences

Running on a plain field
Sheets of green
With no accent

Pure black hard rock
With white strips
But nothing else in sight

It’s mind-boggling
The wind blows evenly

Slumped over
Straighten back up


Inhale, Exhale
Deep breaths is being taken in
Relief



Four orange walls open back


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