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A Slow Drip - - -

for i am but a dry desert, hungry for rainfall in august- renown for what i am not, steering away from the noise of what i wish to be doing locked away with a key not able to twist nor turn ~for redemption i yearn~ a slow d r i p into an abyss of fear never comprehending my destruction- i slip on an innocent tear, forever unmending my wounds, allowing a silent abduction so, i leave not knowing which kismet is becoming, what fate do i wear wishing my weary woe away- all the hope has diminished and my anguish, numbing, for i have been bound to this desultory life of disarray ~~~~~~ 1.6.20

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 2/23/2020 8:09:00 PM
Hi Laura, Congratulations on your pensive, melancholy write. Your feelings so well expressed.
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Book: Shattered Sighs