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My Book

No one turns the pages
Or reads between the lines
You only see the fazes
of the worthless bloody dimes.
But hiding in the hazes
Between the fading signs
Lies a heart that's waiting
For someone else to find.
Within the rusty cover
And the endless frightful pages
Lies the tale of centuries
Worthy of all ages.



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l.iney said...
Mar. 16, 2011 at 6:58 pm

I love this poem and it is so true we only look at what sticks out to us. Great job.

ps read some of my stuff too please

 
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