A Dream
Yea, though I dreamt
I was in a horrid place
Full of terrible words
I could not swim away
Steamy towers, rest in fog
And our concrete mama
Was not self-healing
Later when I woke
I fished and fished
And fished for my soul
And when I caught it
I never gave it away again.
I was in a horrid place
Full of terrible words
I could not swim away
Steamy towers, rest in fog
And our concrete mama
Was not self-healing
Later when I woke
I fished and fished
And fished for my soul
And when I caught it
I never gave it away again.
© 2015 Rob Schackne
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