#916272 added July 28, 2017 at 9:59am Restrictions: None
The Last Act
Obsessed With Expression
A lonely journey to fine tuning a rough voice
They know
You stood in the center of town
Cried
Lied
You had their eyes
Your one act play
Over
Transmission from past
Haunt the empty present
You eye
The town square
Metaphysically measure
Every wooden crate
The right wood
The exact height
Keeping vigil
The clock
When that window
Opens
To your sleepless plight
The dive will be sweet
The end nears
The last act
Cannot be repeated.
Just a two minute poem written while listening to Warning by Incubus.
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