Deteriorated Poem by Marc Hurkmans

Deteriorated



Ten long years of waiting,
waiting for it to descend

It just won’t happen,
I open my eyes

I exist in certain files,
nobody opens them

Afraid of what they might find,
I open my eyes

Rolling on the floor,
as the people judge my work

Afraid of what they might find

I open my eyes

Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: eyes
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