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A final message:
We reinvent the words.
Why won't they change their minds?
Their satellites came crashing to the sea.
The dolls lost their dresses and
We reinvented the world.
But with the hull collapse,
I feel the rushing water baptize me.
My yellow waste has dried,
The milk of my soul soured,
Spark then fade
Just like the data link of pink noise
Now I'm free.
Sent underwater
We've been left underwater.
Loud ping of the sonar.
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S Stoddard
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Comments
Prophetic Shawn Stoddard | Jul 24th, 2006
There is a definite sense of remorse yet acceptance and belief in this work. It's almost as if the speaker is allowing the coming of death to ransack himself for the sake of others, even though the reader has no idea who is dying, or who the saved might be.
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