Sadness Written in the Moon’s Scar
In a half-broken cup,
coffee settles—calm, silent.
Dead leaves lie scattered on the table,
beside leafless, lifeless trees—
witnesses to dreams long lost,
witnesses to sleepless nights.
On bamboo-paper pages
resides the address of truth.
A chair holds a quiet presence,
and the soul that sits knows
the weight of silent tears.
Unspoken words drift in the morning sky.
Even the night’s moon
understands the ache of solitude.
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