Nothing Ever New Poem by Dan Brown
Nothing Ever New
Trudge now through the sludge of sentimentality and the
scrumpled paper crowns
- spit the words
and press the hot, dry flesh to satisfy the pack.
The colours are far away,
pricking the skies above laughter and freedom;
not bright enough to light the way nor close
enough to feel their booms and bangs in the heart.
And with that it is done; gone. Unplugged
at the socket and left
for dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 2:41:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
