The CollectorA Poem by KaleidoscopetheYoung
Sleep becomes a variable. Days and nights are unstoppable. Time, unbearable. Not a single year has been divided. My eyes are aching. Just hiding behind the tears of a clown. Collecting thoughts that have once been buried. Shall we reminess?
© 2014 KaleidoscopetheYoung |
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Added on December 1, 2014 Last Updated on December 1, 2014 Author
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