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  • Death

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    the night is young
    darkness falls
    the killer’s eyes stalk your bones
    chilled to the core…
    shivering

    footsteps in the dark
    shadows of your blood spilled
    ripe on the pavement

    a lonely alley hears you scream

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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.

    rimbaud’s Poems (12)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    It Is The Night 0
    The Road 0
    I Am Witness To A Murder 2
    the poet and the gun 2
    Listen Slowly 1
    Untitled 0
    Untitled 0
    There Is A Slow Storm Coming 0
    Untitled 0
    Untitled 0
    Untitled 1
    Untitled 1