Spine

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  • Emotional

    Spine

    Forever set to hold one's self.
    Our body's will left to sit on a shelf.
    The pounding of such force.
    Drives our skill in it's own course.
    Resist life's deterioration of our imperfection.
    In hopes to change for a better direction.
    Years will come and go, lay all the weight of all the dispare.
    Look back we do is sit and just stare.
    Great cause of weak bones.
    Leaves one to lay and moan.

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    VanGogh’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Balloons of Time 0
    Great Blue 0
    Spine 0