Poems

Monday, April 7, 2014

Robbed

In the innocence of 
Childhood, we see everything. 
Magic
is not imaginary.

In the innocence of
Childhood
We see nothing,
hidden from our 
false idols and
half-truths
Then shell-shocked
We stumble upon it. 
Posted by aae at 9:13 PM
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      • Unfinished.
      • The Motions
      • tell that mick my requiem
      • portrait d'une femme, deux
      • Smack
      • In Class
      • Strangers
      • Strings
      • Dog Burned Alive
      • War Crimes
      • Desert Son
      • Moira
      • I.
      • Higher Education
      • Love, I am Ashes.
      • Ties
      • Sleeping with the Enemy
      • Truth or Dare
      • Back Alley Classroom Surgery
      • Us
      • Come Closer
      • Kill Your Darlings
      • Robbed
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