Hollow
A soul in constant war,
Ever pondering, ever sore.
Fighting battles it cannot flee,
A being trapped in purgatory.
What it longs for, just out of reach,
Peace forever beyond its speech.
Why must the raven find no rest,
Why brief calm, never blessed?
Only to be thrust back in the storm,
To bleakness, a haunting norm.
What curse must it bear alone,
Is there respite for this soul, unknown?
Copyright © Navar Corin | Year Posted 2024
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