Transparent, with no finger tips,
Man made you
Just to be
Dependent.
And so I wonder
When was I
Intoxicated
By this mechanical Eden?
Though scentless,
Shapeless,
Without a soul
And no door to walk inside,
I am sheltered
Within this paradise
Of artifice.
By Louise Holt, De Montfort University, Leicester
1 comment:
Hi Louise,
What is the central subject here? There're some strong lines here in terms of sound.
Thanks, Jonathan
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