Tuesday, November 11, 2003

A wanderer, deep in the chasms of a gold mine
Unconsciously I sit, beating the barriers of my mind
Most of the house has rooms, never been used
Locks endure the axes, the doors imprinted by shoes
Power radiates from the threshold of upper floors
Power for absolute conquest, or to stop all wars
IĆ¢€™ll keep digging for gold, trying to find these keys
Until closed, the door to the morgue opens for me.

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