Untitled, New - Poem by Adam Zank
From this simple man
the burning bush rises
Standing on the edge
of this precipice.
A cold wind blows
And dark lightening courses
Lying on the edge
Of this crashing tide
And Down we fall
Into dark's waiting embrace
further into shadow...
The Farther we fall the more hope slips away
spiraling down now, never to stop.
and twixt the rain, said acid reigning o'er my mind,
two whom the simple man speaketh.
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