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In a world where passion is fortune
In a life where love is fame
Among all things precious and full of glory
Some would say they play a ‘fools game’
Staring into darkness
Trapped in a lonely tunnel
A never ending passage
Pretending they ‘know all’
With a hand, full of sorrow
And a hat full of tricks
How could they lose this game?
Really it’s themselves they cannot fix
A multitude of misfortunes
Followed by the stench of brandy and debt
An account of I O U’s, that will never be kept
Broken hearts fall down, but luck is never up.
Souls are sold to uniforms
Trapped inside four walls
Fact is they’ve been dead for years now
And they are remembered as ‘just fools!’
> Then I shalt strike thee down and burn thy heart!
Can't you burn my fart?
It's a lot funnier.
And me painful if I get some suck-back.
That was a cue, by the way ...
Go.
> Nah, poems don't do it for me. Neither do short stories, which there
> are loads at the moment in this forum.
There is, ain't there?
I'm one to blame - been trying to do something every other day this week.
It was good, mind, don't get me wrong.
No worries on the paragrahs.
Far too little to worry about.
It is short poem I didnt feel it needed paragraphs!
But in my short stories I will be using a great deal of them.
Yes, did this a little while ago - be nice to have some feed back on my poem with positive and negative critisms.
Thanks chaps and ladies!