far beneath the steeples of cobble stoned london,
he moves without the parting of a shadows grace.
from morning to morning he carries no longing.
...
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Hey nathan - the word 'Their' is not spelled thier. Speak to April. she'll show you how to use a dictionary and /or a spelling checker. She thinks you're super. By the way, this is a pretty darn good poem.
April agrees-It's so different and beautiful images as in all your work 'in tombs of mortared regret' gorgeous! But it could reach to really brilliant if you will have them edited (HHMM_who could do that?) When you suddenly come across a 'to' when it's obvious you meant 'too' it breaks the flow and drastically changes the direction, meaning and atmosphere for a while. It's like like listening to music and there's suddenly this tuba that shouldn't be there.