A River Run... Poem by Sullivan the Poet.
Bubbling, taunting, time's dark tide, each eddy swirled, in sagging flesh; In days, in hours, speeds our slide, our being hurled, to tomb from crèche. No sooner fecund than denied; Disdain time's breakneck, lethal ride. Crack boned, withered, stooped and bent, each moment run,
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