Poor Souls

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Poor Souls

 

The dirt will pile up on you

The sea will crash out of its blue

The years will follow suit

The dirt will pile up on you

The sea will crash out of its blue

The years will follow suit

The dirt will pile up on you

The sea will crash out of its blue

The years will follow suit

 

 

 

 

 


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Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

BlackLabel’s Poems (51)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Infectious 1
10 Year Sentence 0
Rich Kid 0
No Drugs 0
Feel Anything 0
Drinking Fire 0
Poor Souls 0
There is Light 0
All Hat, No Cowboy 2
Cycles 0
Small Talk Gatherings 0
Rebirth 0
Man of The Night (Time is Rare) 0
Right Here 1
There's an App for That 1
December 21st 3
Dissolution Of 0
Around About 0
Shambles 0
Stay High 0
Make Way 1
Sin is King 0
How Much Black in The World 0
To 3
Hot Bed 1
Emesis 1
The General Electric 4
I Don't Mean to Sound Blunt, But I Fucking Miss You 3
You're So 713 3
An Arm & A Leg 4
Plasma 1
Moonshine 1
The Easy Way Out 0
Wolves on a Leash 1
Appreciation Day 0
I Won't Bother You No More 7
Synthetics 1
Suburbia 0
Ocean Blue 2
Postmark 0
Red Label 0
The Cold (Patronizing) 0
The Sky is Falling 0
They Laugh Until They Cry 2
Ring 0
Where The Cotton Grows 0
Times, The Baptist 1
Closer 1
The Middle of Nowhere 1
Loneliness of Alaska 2
Waiting Out Front The Terminal 2

BlackLabel’s Friends (3)