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Void’s Embrace
Words like thorns, stuck deep, they choke,
A silent scream, a shattered spoke.
My shadow flees, won’t show its face,
Lost within its hollow space.
Time’s rusted blade, it carves with grace,
Slowly tracing my fragile base.
Hands of emptiness, cold and pale,
Cradle a doom that’s set to sail.
On edges sharp, where whispers race,
I hold the night’s forsaken grace.
Copyright ©
Elif Naz Ogunc
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