deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Calling
Echoing the calling from my soul
lonely and dark as a weathered stone
obsidian wings of gothic bones
morphing to twilight in my insomnia
listening to the dripping of pneumonia
from the ballast of my mind...
the flickering light of obscene
slipping the night away
echoing the calling from my soul
lonely and dark as a weathered stone
obsidian wings of gothic bones
morphing to twilight in my insomnia
listening to the dripping of pneumonia
from the ballast of my mind...
the flickering light of obscene
slipping the night away
echoing the calling from my soul
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