Rolling in with an epileptic form <br />All smell is lost in this crowd I'm alone <br />I have it all, yet I'm deprived <br />From some form of existance I have derived <br /> <br />Somewhere in between Kiev and Batislava <br />I've lost my own fragrant belloclava <br />It's been quite some time and now its grown old <br />The ones around me are scared and I'm cold <br /> <br />With half a chance I'd kick it like a habit <br />Damage it good for the sake of rising against it <br />To blow away this cloudy nimbus <br />And reclaim the scent to inspire my impulse <br /> <br />But it keeps rolling in with an epileptic form <br />All smell is lost in this crowd all alone<br /><br />Mason Maestro<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cloud-iii/
