Preserve | Teen Ink

Preserve

November 8, 2007
By Anonymous

Tomorrow I'll die
Under moons of stars
Of leaves of gold
A cup of crushed and powdered years
the familiarity of this precense
As we waste away into filth
I won't stop breathing
The fog of this mouth will fill
The night air
Midnight runners will take us in
The body decays
And still I run


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