Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Riddle Poem

To our dismay,
to your dismay,
to my dismay,

eating at thoughts,
holes through the walls,
its on the dome,
wont wash off,

breathing speeds,
heart races,
thoughts deepen, dampen
to hard to hinder or control,

focus is shattered,
the walls build up,
they grow so high,
then they break back down,
to there start, there birth from dismay.      

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