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Literature Text
Restless eyes close to a dimmed world,
Filled with the cloudy stirrings of life.
Open ears hear the sweet whispers
From walls that are silent no longer.
The soft murmurs are captured,
Yet not understood by the mind.
Forming incoherent events of past lives,
The words stumble and crash into me.
The droning walls of life speak to us,
willing one to hear a tale.
A satire of sweet promised hope,
an urge to open tired eyes.
Filled with the cloudy stirrings of life.
Open ears hear the sweet whispers
From walls that are silent no longer.
The soft murmurs are captured,
Yet not understood by the mind.
Forming incoherent events of past lives,
The words stumble and crash into me.
The droning walls of life speak to us,
willing one to hear a tale.
A satire of sweet promised hope,
an urge to open tired eyes.
Listen to the past.
© 2006 - 2024 singthesorrow487
Comments2
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Actually, the house I'm living is quite creeeeepy. Staring at the walls I kinda came up with it. thnx for the comment. ^_~