Burn in the smile -
We're dead again;
Strike a pose
For our millennium.
The lonely lie:
Tho' future dies
In our delusion,
Hope fluoresces,
Edges faith,
Caresses;
And as I fade,
Comfort blanks the pain:
You stoop;
Your shade addresses,
Telling all is well.
That haze -
Death's hum;
I feel a falling.
Will I dream
In this
Eternal sleep?
And who is calling?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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