Where did all the bones come from?
Where have all the peaple gone?
Is all I see upon my head?
I hear my angel calling.
She warns me the sky is falling.
It's like the rain, but it's warm, and red.
© 2005 veingo
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/10914/71140 on Saturday October 11th, 2008 05:48 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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