Final Thoughts.

Silly really, thoughts of time,
Like an aging voice from a battered tome,
A spinning top, teatering to fall,
Like old graffiti, whitewashed from the wall.
A candle blown out, years act like breath,
Happiness slowly put to death.
What hardships lay in ruin below,
Lost innocense as the body grows.
My regards I write and send,
To you my old and forgotten friend.

Final Thoughts.

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • hahpistuff
  • Paul Rees-Jones
  • Katya Lavorovna
  • Paul Rees-Jones
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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