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Digging a fresh grave, foot by foot,
Fill it with dead visions of hope.

Returned to earth, from dust to dust.
Building its tomb up brick by brick.

Clack then click. Arise stony walls.
Inch by inch. Hide what lies behind.

Shut firmly the gate, with a world
weary grip; lock it all inside.

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2 Comments

  1. This poem is very strange. Despite the title it doesn’t feel sad at all; it’s almost…energetic.

    Having said that I won’t pretend to know anything about poems, so feel free to whack me in the head and tell me I’m totally off-track.

    • mtalib
    • Posted March 30, 2008 at 11:14 pm
    • Permalink

    You’re very right , which makes it a very astute observation.


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