Out Of Touch Poem by michael Smajda
Out Of Touch
When I awake from my wake,
I wonder where I will be?
Will I be God's Heaven?
In Hell with an enemy?
Well, when the time, surely, comes,
(To no surprise, my demise)
I'll have no way to tell you
To look down or toward the skies.
Wednesday, January 8, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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4/23/2024 8:59:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
