Gothic MindA Poem by OliveraFortune absence Makes me cold. Shallow people Must I speak?
Holding pebbles White and thick Shallow fire Does not warm.
The Truth... Always different. Pleasant Air Icy breezing.
What to do? Knowing not. Standing silent Graciously.
And there is nothing left…
© 2008 OliveraReviews
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Added on February 5, 2008Last Updated on February 10, 2008 |

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