A young lad in a costume of oldish.
Living a life
As a hope it is
As a sunken, ceased strife
On grounds that are
Never to be his.
Sounds of others
Stand tall in abyss
Of a man in his prime,
In his dress
With daisies grey and grime.
No arsenal, just quiet longing
Last edited by Aabsinthe; 07-22-2015 at 07:09 PM.
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