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by Timothy Aug 4, 2004 category : Sadness, depression / about death
I roam, I roam, always alone; Into the incomprehensible, Darkness i am shown. Love is a dying rose, Plucked in infancy; Left to wilt in the sun, Without a shred of dignity. Fallen from grace, Orion's face; It is her distaste, When I leave this world without a trace.
by Shædow Poet
Nice poem, great imaginary.