Thursday, August 30, 2012

Fever

My past is twisted.  It's burned in with fever.
But on third glance, I'm no fan of my future's looks, either.
My whole life, the present's always where I liked to live,
But stuck there, it's strip-mined.  It's got less to give.
My present's an island, a green, scenic cage
Kept by the past's and the future's blockade.

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