Monday, April 15, 2013

April 15th


Somewhere, untouched by time,
There waits an adventure, soon to be mine.

Somewhere that smells of paper and must,
somewhere covered in cobwebs and dust,
 on shelves, bowed by knowledge
there's something old to be acknowledged.

In soft armchairs, by sunlit windows,
ill watch the accused walk to the gallows,
an evil cackle,
a jest,
a fight,
I've been roped in
and this book
won't let me sleep tonight.

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