David Blake

Rookie (04/14/77)

Butterflies

Poem by David Blake

Looking for something to move
me, a desire so carnal and vain to
tear the words from my limp
hands. Pounding the walls my
thoughts imprisoned struggling,
beneath my passions surrounded
by shame, I loathe the coming of
day. The light burning, tearing at
my soul only to reveal all was a
dream and nothing more.

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening



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Poem Submitted: Monday, November 26, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 26, 2011