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The Waiting Shore

three years of hell three years of pain three years of desertion three years of lying to myself "that someday your ship will arrive on my shore now covered in weeds" you set out on the seas to look for your stolen peace your memories growing over me prisoner to who i have become my eyes are starting to feel blurry death is creeping upon me

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things