Clock Factory

lalalalaaaaaaaalalalalaaaaaaaa Posts: 2,445
edited January 2008 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Hey, precious thing.
I heard you can see.
I heard your eyes
reflect the revolution.

Hey, dirty thing.
They say you talked.
They see through the mesh
that was a mask to me.

Hey, beautiful dementia.
These years of folded hands
don't control me anymore.
I'm transformed.
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