Shattered pieces into the void.
Casts, grasps, reaches out onto nothing.
Bitter truths, sweet lies, foolishness so it seems.
One or two things may change or may not.
Far it may be, but there is no stopping.
Yes, it is slow.
Still grathering, still progressing.
One by one.
Waiting patiently, for the time to come.
Wanting to be whole again.
In this void.
A speck of light is the only hope.
Copyright © Marc Buisa | Year Posted 2019
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