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today

I hope it's not today when the angels come home
where would these faces hide among the streets bent truth
no walk away monuments are waiting for us to stare
and where was I when you sang the rivers red
in the morning and evenings when I dropped the brightest star

Editing stage: 

Comments

i would love to see this made longer! the last line almost seems like a cliff hanger. also, i stumbled over the third line a little; but that may be just the absence of punctuation. over all, great work.
always,
mag

This is "absurd theatre" I can SEEE it all
and it is such a little gem of a 'happening.'

"streets bent truth"
like that.

Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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