Fallen Poem by Randy Bolton

Fallen



Fallen, but not from the sky.
Disgraced by all am I.
Fallen, do to my own hand.
Now I wander across the cell I call land.
Fallen, but tried I have not
Yet death will find me on the morrow
Fallen, without sorrow
Fallen

Randy Bolton
Friday, February 18, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: sorrow
poem poems sorrow
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