Create amity.
The peach opening of clouds,Bleached, and oppressed
for the silver lining
exists no more.
Told to hunt your hellion,
Call to the brook
of our inward amity.
Stop, listen and look.
Plateau, your new seed.
You must travel,
You must beleive.
And when thrown,
Let your bare feet bleed.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 939 times
Written on 2011-03-12 at 19:26
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by John Ashleigh Latest textsDesignDylan. In between love. Transcend. Fingertips. My favoritesNightlightPhoenix Seulement One Week from Tomorrow. Betrayed |
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