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| By Philip Kyle Boone | ||
| Written in July 1984. | ||
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tonight I sleep, although sleep never comes easy... then again what ever does? Tonight I will dream, a dream of life for I have dealt with death so many times. DEATH! It seems to come easy these days. But there is always life to fill in the empty spaces that death has left behind. DEATH! Taking life and never giving it back. Wouldn't you think his appetite should be satisfied after all this time? Though he never stops stalking the shadows of darkness... neither do I. For where ever he leaves his empty spaces I must be there to fill them in. Yes! You guessed it. I am life. But I can be no more. For death has left too many empty spaces for me to fill and I have already filled so many. I'm afraid I can fill no more. For now it is you who must fill the empty space of my death.
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| This was one of the first pros I've ever written. I gave it a title first in 2001, after have reading it for about the thousandth time. To this day it is still one of my most deep and darkest poems. |