Whole Life of I

Clara Anastasia
Aug 27, 2017 · 1 min read

I heard a call, a decent call
from a dense, timid island, I heard a choir,
I painted glitters, a fine conveying echo
killing swords of forgotten pain miraculously,
I drifted ways of arch in space
one hair-brained of all, I do recall
then a decent conceited army I project,
reflecting shades of sorrow
shifting a thousand billion colored beams.

And so it is
the whole life of I,
obsessing and preaching a medium rave
and of all I died, I cried a dime;
I collected vain, I collected pain;
but of landing terrors, I could not compel.

Oh, to conquer my love,
I’d dive an ocean
an ocean, my dear;

But not ever a spark,
for once, and once for all.

)
Clara Anastasia

Written by

i’m not sure what i write

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