Behind shrouded membranes wepted.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The coming together, shrouded,
where verses bled, on his homecoming, and hope now lies in the gutter, stood shadows in tears behind whispering veils, sniffling; blanketed by mourning on death's embrace, while contrasting tissues moved in crowded circles, wet. © 2017 andrew mitchell |
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Added on April 17, 2017 Last Updated on April 17, 2017 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

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