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A Cold Window
I just want to cry,
let it all out to fill mine eyes,
a cold window to the soul
lit by the morning light,
The heart of a wasted poet wants to sing tonight,
by pen and paper and decrepid verse it just might,
the pot will never be full,
but theyll always pour just in case it does,
A romantic lies in dreams tonight,
his worlds past,
he has no sight,
the arsenic by the bottle glints as the world walks by
Each and every child will know the words,
sung as whsipers to an age that always shouts,
tears and hearts are friends tonight,
as we wake to the falling drops off frosted glass
poem
by
Andrew Rose
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