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I Write Poetry

Prologue

What Event scarred my Path?
Burned down the cities!
Apocalypse mind.
What world is this?
And the one for which I endlessly search?
Barefooted, muddied, dirty, bruised.

I lay me down into the ground,
Wait.
For Mother Earth to swallow me.
Cleanse me.
Clean me.
Feel me.
As I feel Her warmth.

In a World I belong.
A World brimming with Life
But void of humanity.

The world I dream of.
Elegy · 46-50
Pretty

desolate

 
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