by Angie Werren
We make men gods with bitter poetry. They live this translucent life born of our idle gaze and blind words. Our greed spits poison. In the miserable quiet, his voice is shade. It flows over us, soft liquid words. We turn the page.
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Angie Werren writes a poetry blog.
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3 comments:
I have heard it said that great poets can also write great prose.
Here's some proof.
So much said in so few sentences, so few words.
Well done!
Outstanding.
that, my dear, was PERFECTION.
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