The thought lamp released nightmares when polished.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The more I tried
to wipe the memory the more it began to shine. On dust collected the burial was sweet, but short lived I saw the shine on remembrance, the memory rose - relived.
© 2018 andrew mitchell |
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Added on March 17, 2018 Last Updated on March 17, 2018 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..Writing
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