I touched the dust that once was my soul. Lying here white sheets cold. Filters of light through woven thread pass my life on this cold steel bed. I stare at life, busy tending sick. Dust still crumbling, from the pharoahs bricks. I cannot cry I have lived so long. But why,but why?. So long the sirens song.
Reason for writing:
Thinking of my friends no longer here and those that now live in the vietnam memorial wall
Birth sign: Not entered
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