Man of Clay

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  • Confusion

    Man of Clay

    Here I sit upon the shelf,
    Not seeing me, but, someone else.
    Memories forever in my mind,
    Losing track of precious time;
    Not knowing where to draw the line.
    Confussion creeps in from my past,
    Feelings holding me steadfast.
    Not caring for tomorrow,
    Not seeing light through all my sorrow.
    I see nothing that the future brings,
    A song of sadness my heart sings.
    And so, I sit a man of clay,
    Mold me into night or day...
    Then, tomorrow fades away!

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    Spacer commented on Man of Clay

    02-13-2009

    I loved it...I wrote a poem regarding the exact saem thing ..Called it malleable...very nice

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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