Somme days

. I’ve been disillusioned and naive and I’m too tired. Maybe today my bones will wither away to dust and my skin will fall to the earth in a lump of flesh. Ah dreams can almost be a prison of the mind. Tommorow is a new day. Another endless tunnel of my own making.  

    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
 

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1 Comment

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One response to “Somme days

  1. Edward E. Evans

    The windmills of our minds, ever turning, never ceasing.

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