fatuousA Poem by h d e rushinWhen my daughter was born they handed me the silver scissors to snip the cord that dragged you here. Timid, I was, as if the make-believe mountain I had passed had climbed upon me; threw it's largest rocks at me. Held me seated in the lost train thru it's tunnel. I was frightened. My hands still shake when I think of trains and rail cars filled with others lives. Some going to the same place every day. As if every day is the thing eternity asks you to cut thru. © 2015 h d e rushinReviews
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Added on October 9, 2015Last Updated on October 9, 2015 |


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