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Class of ’72

Tim Murphy

Jun 01 2011

0 mins

Imagine living in darkness,
never seeing the sun,
hearing the high Harkness
Tower’s carillon
sounding its hourly knells
with fifty-four bronze bells.

Why darkness? I was blind,
lost in a whiskey haze
with Milton on my mind,
stretching exhausted days
with lines of crystal meth,
racing myself to death.

Looking back forty years,
would I change everything,
the no boy’s land of fears
I wandered? Lord, I bring
such sorrow, such regret
my sins might save me yet.
 

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