'I feel the pain throughout my flesh, now that I have nothing left.' <br /> <br />Fabric, cold time; <br />inventory all here. <br />Lace memory, written line; <br />relics. I fear <br />all, but nil stolen, <br />lost in dry tears, <br />my mind loosing control and <br />the fetid time nears. <br />shiver poor beast, <br />pain oft' times real. <br />all left in my pockets: <br />a run-dry, burned quill.<br /><br />Rowan Parkinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/empty-pockets-3/
