Thursday, July 3, 2014

Help!

Drowning
In the quicksand of memories
It's cold, it's wet, it's fragrance wild.
Every move, every kick, every beating of the heart
every blink of an eye
sink me deeper
in life-sucking reveries
A hand is all I am seeking right now
to pull me out of this lulling pit of death
black, white, weak, strong, young, or old
All look alike to a dying eye.

-Uththara-

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