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The Thirteenth Loser (Free verse) by seebergerb

When are tears not real? When you cried for the love you lost while dancing on a cloud without touching the ground - when you held dice between your fingertips and prayed for the heavens to bow to you - when you ran across the earth, your sweat forming rivers as wide as a rainbow, for the love you thought belonged to you if you tried hard enough - the sirens at the end of the rainbow wield long teeth, sharp as a cut axe, wings ash-colored and eyes as empty as space.

horus8 11-Jul-02/6:30 PM
Better Sirens than Harpies. a delightful poem.??




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