peom under construction
They search.
They probe,
within their hearts
outside their minds.
So sad.
So harsh.
These beings grind.
Their ken of peace,
displaced but kind.
Each step a question
Each
Through shadows they wander
But fechos of the past.
For solace they seek.
of peace fill the air.
Flicker of hope to oust this despair.
Copyright © David Ranisav | Year Posted 2015
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