|It must be some kind of sight.
The mirror does not see.
Hung above the cradles pen.
I'm blaming me I'm we.
|I know you have responsibilities.
And lots, and lots, of boundaries.
With everything being so crazy.
And a lifetime of only flounderings.
The poem that wins your vote migrates up a Ladder in rank one step.
The poem that looses your vote migrates down a Ladder in rank one step.
Go see the real time Ladder results, (but please
contribute six or seven votes first).
home = www.epicdewfall.ca