Narrator - poetry
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North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
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She took my strength by minutes. She took my life by hours. She drained me like a fevered moon that saps the spinning world. The days went by like shadows. The minutes wheeled like stars. She took the pity from my heart and made it into smiles. She was a hunk of sculptors, Clay. My secret thoughts were fingers. They flew behind her pensive brow and lined a deep with pain. They set the lips and sagged to the cheeks and herb the eye with sorrow. My soul had entered in the clay fighting like seven devils. It was not mine. It was not hers. She held it, but it struggles model to face. She hated and a face I feared to see. I beat the windows, shook the bolts. I hid me in a corner and then she died and haunted me and hunted me for life.