Dust
Silver dust in the wind
Of memories lost and forgotten.
Black skies and indigo clouds
Tumble over heads of those ignored;
Bodies walking in a crooked line,
Faces down and feet shuffling.
Beings led by a false hope
That maybe one day they wont
Turn into the dust swirling
About their thoughtless, empty shells
©Megan Dooley 2/13/09













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