The lady H walks through my mind
Unsettling the dust of thoughts below
With a twirl of her head
the snowglobe of my awareness spins
sending snowflakes of memory flying fro
each a dagger piercing the glass
that disturbs the integrity of the sphere
Stalking the halls of thought
The lady H leaves no corner unsought
persisting in pain
spreading uneasiness as
emptiness blooms in her wake.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Atlas Shrugged
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