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If misery can be pierced, does grief exude The pent up torment of a heart shriven Broken by the flight of circumstance, weakness and misguided will For now, at home, means four walls and a lonely bed Where one's reflections are all resentment and regrets An empty space contained by a cyclops Whose monofix is to be transfixed by a phantom. And as debriefing is an inevitable result of exaltation A stripping of the armoury of one's acts and intentions So one reaches the bottom of a grief that extrudes From misguided hopes and wishful expectations.
David Levitas
| Submitted Date |
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Sunday, October 14, 2007 |
| Submitted Date |
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Saturday, April 16, 2011 |
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