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wounded lord literature

The years went by like sweet little days With babies crying pork chops and beaujolais

the sun boat

trampled under by the rain
the sun boat
invented the sand

it was easy
because they collect rocks
from everywhere they go

sometimes I understand
the sadness and
sometimes I know its my fault

I don’t know when
or why; but somehow
I lost access to the kingdom

and everyday is like the tide coming in
and I am buried up to my neck
in sand






© 2007 woundedlordliterature
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