Mar 24
She holds many faces,
Roams between ancient places.
A voice of cold marble,
She plucks at my spine,
Drawing out muted whimpers.
She comes and she goes,
A potent spirit of my mind,
Releasing inferno incomparable.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
