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Tilting at Windmills

And it is with a sad, desperate terribleness

That a man realizes in lonely quietude

That he has been tilting at windmills

Stone behemoths, unforgiving

That he himself hath created

Gleefully, singing happily

His heart open, but his eyes closed.

Posted on Saturday, February 7, 2009 at 11:06PM by Registered CommenterJust Me | Comments2 Comments

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Reader Comments (2)

Poetry very rarely makes me shed tears. You touch my heart and you will always be a beautiful soul.
February 8, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterTrixie
It's good to see you back.. :oD
February 9, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAKB

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