The screaming skull of a withered mind.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The wind's voice bellows
through the tunnels of a mind's wreck where dark rains rise up the walls of a skull's attic where only the void carries the echoes of a nightmare cornered in what was.... a withered mind.
© 2018 andrew mitchell |
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Added on March 28, 2018 Last Updated on March 28, 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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