Sometimes the sky is clear and bright
So much I can count the souls
One of my passed away granmother, saving a place
Two of my old stag beetles, their hunger now replenished
The rest is a mystery, your memory and mine
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Confused Days
Poetry~ Confusion helps when I'm sad. It takes my mind off it. I drift off to sleep, And all I see is darkness ~ Poems that I can't find homes for ~ 'Days' series updated every two days
