Fools Paradise

January 3, 2011
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Moments of time start to pile in a heap,
Demanding to be wrote off as empty space.
Slipping into the black glass of the abyss
A mirror of the image gushing in.

Hiding in plain sight behind a fake reality,
Echoes of the masked pulsing reflection
Clinging to the strands of a slain safety net.

Rejection eclipsed beneath every word
Slices open the thread-bare strings of confidence.
Solitary throbs as a dark entity
Carrying off the pending insanity.

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tony said...
Jan. 18, 2011 at 11:52 am

I read your poem - very deep and very well put!!!!

Sorry, I meant to rate your poem as a five star but hit the first star meaning to hit each one - but the system thought that was my rating. Not the case - this is most certainly a five star poem!!!

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