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There’s always an ugly seduction on a scene of a broken doll,So why still pray to the angel of glass? And as crystals rip through our eyes, The clock strikes 12 revealing all our nightmares on every walls, Cut through the lace and you will find Nothing but a shattered porcelain butterflies

Sunday, November 14, 2010

A Poem: The Phantom Whisper

The Phantom Whisper

Though I am but the echo in your words
I still remain the dream reflecting in your slumber
The desire that burn eternally on your lips
And though you base your principals on the logic of time
You will never override the judgment cast upon by your heart.

By Camille Tambe.

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