It is a strange sort of pain "to die of yearning for something you'll never experience"

Thursday, April 08, 2004

Mute


He's so damn like his dad
Asking me how I feel? Glad!
Dad says: I bought that Shakespeare's
They pause
He stairs at the maroon rows of chairs
How they would creak loudly?
Couple of minuets passes
He says; I love poems
Dad's reading the book
His brother, same similarity,
Crawls next to dad
Grandpa comes fat and red
I bet he's just been fed
They all share the same shape of head
He's still staring at the maroon rows of chairs
And they all creak
Mute..
Asking me how I feel? I'm fuckin' glad!

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