Birth
Boom, life
Seeing ceiling
Finding sun
Finally feeling
Hallway light
A child is born
The world awaiting
A void torn
Birth
Boom, life
Seeing ceiling
Finding sun
Finally feeling
Hallway light
A child is born
The world awaiting
A void torn
09-06-2010
09/06/2010
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
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