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I am here

I am the pejorative son.

Reticent in this skin.

The greatness within a god that perished of his own necro-mongering.

I am the void.

The dusk of youth,

Ever so diminishing.

The paramour of time, the Grendel of truth, the keeper of precepts.

I am calamity.

What I am I was,

An expediant edification shouted toward the carapace of perceptiveness.

I am the cult of breath.





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  • poetryality silver member
    September 20, 2008

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    "What I am I was,"

    Ah Yes! I am, was, and have yet to become...

    Excellent musing poet.


    Much Love ♥

    Renee

  • Rue
    August 26, 2008

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    Just wow.

    You're really come into grasping your voice. I love the images that were brought up for me, especially in the longer sentences. I hope I can see more of your writing soon.