Knife Poem by Lev Brekhman
Knife
There is always a wall,
Made of some magic glass.
It's not wide, nor is tall,
But you can't ever pass.
You can't touch real life,
So live on in bliss.
But the very next knife,
Will not, sure, you miss.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: irony
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4/29/2024 1:46:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
