Plastic Robot Shoes

Philosophy, Poetry, Theology

Saturday, February 12

The Unsung Story

A golden beam, passes through the golden sheen,
to land on the crippled hands.

A disfigured face, by which is too hard to trace,
the unsung story and tale.

Whether his mind or heart, he went looking at the start,
it brought about his ruin.

Now at his death, he murmurs through his breath,
"I can't return empty handed."
Posted by Mr. Robot at 3:02 PM

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