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palace

my glass house is sitting
            with a pile of stones next to it
                        up on a hill
so why did i have to lie
            to the one person that mattered
where did i get the idea
            i carried out
why did i burn the most fragile of us all
i sat up on my thrown
            barking orders
                        and lashing out punishment
                                    to those who did not fit
the sun baked my brain
            and sizzled my heart
                        and killed me slowly
until i was gone
            disappeared
                        disintegrated

in my solitude and prejudice



the rustic gates
Information about the first Illusionist!
the definition of illusionism
the evolution of my poetry
a scroll of poem titles
naviation of non-illusionistic sites
a scroll of entertainment of a illusionistic nature
A poem by a modest friend



Email: dreamer700@yahoo.com