Hours looking on the crest of nothing.A Poem by andrew mitchell
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I sat next to the window, looking passed my reflection, the glass dirty, the sounds that fill silence brought about my return. © 2018 andrew mitchell |
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Added on March 30, 2018 Last Updated on March 30, 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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