Friday, 4 October 2013

poem by ghostmanraines

if heaven was a doctors health centre,peter at the reception telling you to sit down and wait,your turn,room is full of allsorts young and old,each has a number,wondering which door is for them,black and cold as hell,blue into the light,the judgement comes but i am unsure for i await for my clock to stop and awit my fate i hhope it will be heavens gate.

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