Poetplayhouse

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May 17, 2010

It lays still in mud and cold breeze

Quietly waiting in the moonlit night

Old and rusted, almost antique

An ounce of mystery graciously revealed…

 

Of adventures, of great times and bad

Marked forever with every scratch on its alloy of a skin

With every crack distinctly running across its fragile glass cover

With every rusted powder cold and wind and rain graciously coated its chains

 

Each reminiscent of what has been and where it’s been…

Taken adrift across time…

Perceived differently by the world surrounding it

Seemingly lost and forgotten…

As it is faded, old and damaged with only immortality as its eternal companion…

 

Amidst its sufferings and countless bludgeoning of  chance

It may be damaged but never broken…

For with its adventures and misfortunes not only bled for

but nurtured it well with each experience

 

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