Rust and NostalgiaA Poem by Tim LionTattered old t-shirt on a rusty chain-link fence makes me smile. The bloodstains have turned sunset orange and the moth holes look like a blast pattern. I remember the song. I remember the fight. I screamed and whirled like a rabid cat in a crate until all of the inbound asteroids and bloodshot eyes were rubble on my boots. I was a heavy metal berserker in flight; a heel-to-toe waffle-maker on fire. Now, I’m just a tattered old t-shirt on a rusty chain-link fence with too many stories to tell, and a scar for every wagging tale. © 2011 Tim LionFeatured Review
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7 Reviews Added on February 9, 2011 Last Updated on February 9, 2011 AuthorTim LionLake Worth, FLAboutSometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..Writing
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