My Post (11) (1)

Time is taken to fill
The time we kill
Often to long in
A wanting will begin

From every never end
We desperately send
Our sullen despondent hopes
Held together by chains and ropes

The call for more
Marked, slashed, and sore
Scars left by you
Of this endeavor to do

With a mind so suspect
And tattered with neglect
We try to rise
Above our secret disguise

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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