Absolution Escaping

Blind world turning on a dangerous precipice.

Wandering through the green dessert.
The day burns up the night.
Body is worn, eyes blurred, desire is tired.
No time left to count the sins.
No time left to save the wind.
Gentle dreams lost and expired.
Hearts that fled.
Blood that lied.
Promises broken.
Far and low.
Fields of ruin.
Hellish ride.
The quiet murderer knocks with a helpful smile.

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Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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Greg Prince

Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.