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Different Than Said

By , Pinckney, MI
I find the days growing shorter,
Yet it's not night.
The places seem to blend.
I'm told it's alright.

There is so much color,
But everything is dark.
It's branded with hot iron
Of our rightful mark.

The world's not as it seems
From outter space.
Even the mirrors,
Don't show our face.

We don't live to answer.
We live to call.
Every step we take,
Is closer to the fall.

The days grow shorter,
But it's not night to blame,
People say each day goes on,
But I know they're not the same





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Josifer said...
Nov. 1, 2009 at 1:06 pm
I like this. "it's branded with the iron of our rightful mark." I don't know why, but that really...it just sounds so...right. Is it about change and destruction? becasue that's what it seems like. Like nothing can stay the same, everything changes.
 
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