deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Ones Before Me
I often think of all the people before me,
Of the prints left behind my another’s feet.
They do not know I was here too,
And truthfully I do not know who,
Who I am placing my thoughts upon,
Who I imagine in the fresh beginning of dawn.
Who,
When I stare into the fading black,
I imagine is staring back.
Of the prints left behind my another’s feet.
They do not know I was here too,
And truthfully I do not know who,
Who I am placing my thoughts upon,
Who I imagine in the fresh beginning of dawn.
Who,
When I stare into the fading black,
I imagine is staring back.
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