Dead Word's Spill

My heart and my will

Starts sewing the twill.

Smarts glow off water, still,

Serene and all knowing kind of skill

Seems like seams in the threadmill

Streams flow like dreams until

Steams evaporate the means and kill

Beams of bright potential-- making mental's ill

Falling on the page these dead words spill.

The End

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