Desert
hail yee not my empty butterfly
for thy heart yet not to die
i chose yee being alike
in some sort of way
not all the day
thou art thy pain suffering rain
on feathers flying of solitude laine
how art thy note and fled to boat
no love no vain no notice
why now shall i blame
for what once was a game
Copyright © Talin Kalishian | Year Posted 2016
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