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I'm Back
So, after a few weeks without a good internet connection I'm back with another poem for you guys.
Finite Fantasy
To free flowing field's
I would freely float.
Fleeting falling fantasy
Like flies in forests far reaching;
Forever following flowing forms.
I wrote it after a few day poppy tea binge.
I ran out of poppies, the fun ran out, and the pen came to life.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ZenDennehy
It was fucking awful, a sort of tortured sound, like a sheet of paper being ripped in half and it finished up with a bubbling, squeaky sound.
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Poetry of a mad man:
Finite Fantasy
The American Dream Revisited
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