Well Poem by Adeline Morris
Well
Your eyes are glossing over now.
Four days; memories plowing into your cells.
You've become so brittle,
in such denial.
I can see your eyelids twitch.
And you'll never be the same.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
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8/25/2026 4:43:17 PM # rel_20260825T124344Z_022792b
