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Solitude
I sit in solitude
watch the clock on the wall
listening to every stroke go by
as my heart beat increases
as i slowly lose consciousness
my eyes shut and open to
each passing sound as i sit
in torment this
wait is killing me
slowly from the inside out
my only friend is George
but i know sooner or later
his gonna leave. The way he sit
arched on the wall looking at me
all hundred eyes gazing through me
like spares through the soul
oh George if only you wasn't a fly
poem
by
Robert Roberts
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