Shinning Newbies
gloss in the past assemble in the
present of time, waiting to submit
in the clock of the present
in every return the beginning
of the dark breathless hold the
to light of the fire
a close of every dawn, sleeping
becomes the risen chance to change
where many have wish to buy, but
few have taken alive
glamor holds every hand to close,
yet only the weaken have survive even
the lasting gold turns to dust
the hands that empty clip had peep to
see the toe, for nothing left if the
eyes is close
tell what Canmore is and settle
down the emptiness of Greed
poem by Antonio Liao
Added by Poetry Lover
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