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Poetry

Winter Dried | Poem

How lonesome it may seem,

Your soul seeks nothingness of beauty,

Even the deserted heart cries of suffering.

How lonesome it may seem,

My soul destined to suffer eternities,

Even the slightest hint ponders pain.

How lonesome it may seem,

It may take thousands to bury me,

Even the most popular lover ignores deeds.

Deathra, what have you asked me?

I await the night more dearly.

©sjwordsmith
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