Is It Poetry
The Brightest Lights
Killing all the brightest lights.
I write to you this note this letter,
sitting next to that which falls straight up.
From whence, deep down from where,
the pit of my your chin hip deep despair.
You I call,
he looks directly and waits for me to my.
Every star in heavan thus was made,
when from hence I am, come know my name.
Inquire about of that of what she thinks to gain.
Blind in sudden darkness does a knowing person?
Know depending when upon what others can not know.
Why when asking, asking when of this of you.
I have known you even then before your darkness came.
When you go to sleep tonight,
and with the image of that light which burns my brain.
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Comments about this poem (The Brightest Lights by Is It Poetry )
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