Drifted Dreams
The long-drawn-out throb of my core,
Mounting up my red lane,
It is so cold, my eyes are all sore
My atonements have been in bane,
One swell of solecism
Exonerating mine deeds unfeasible to deem,
My soul cries to death
My beautiful dreams drifted.
Copyright © Romnia Grace Divinagracia | Year Posted 2023
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