Color of a PhantomA Poem by SkeltertonIt doesn't matter where you are
A ringing shell from the sea forth bringing
Beyond what a click of fire can ignite with a candlestick Miniature clouds forever present without being Though my percentage limits a gift for you I walk the path entrapped inside a mud bag As finite as one would call a terrible night Springing questions through summer, until you fall, who's to win turning over the rock behind a backyard of ruin? Looking back at space unattended, I could never catch your reflection embedded Empty echoes from each and every corner Though everyone would oppose The control room upstairs claims its owner © 2025 SkeltertonAuthor's Note
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