David McLansky

Freshman - 748 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

Last Poem


I am dying every minute
My soul is slipping away
I cannot stop life’s progression
I cannot halt my own decay;

My poetry lays in cartons
Stacked in boxes in my room
My history of failed loving
Dusty echoes of my doom;

My muscles grow more rigid
Self conscious of the pain
I fear the loss of movement
I’ve who moved in vain

Submitted: Thursday, August 01, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 01, 2013

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