Thursday, 28 January 2010

Stealth Lines

Those lines are most unseen,
Between the pages they are lost;
Ink is put down and lines,
Most unfelt, can it be undone,
This injustice of fate, I am
Not of pride or conceit, but
Am lonely and most lost,
O' please open your mind,
And let me play, I am for
The day your servant and host!

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