| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| Untitled 92 days ago my rebirth began- as painful as an open wound burns. I stood alone and the last leaves drifted to the ground, covering the soft earth. Somewhere after the first snowfall, when the mighty tree's fierce nudity revealed, I quieted the rage. Now the snow lies lazily over dark branches, and the rain softens the ground. Sweet sun slips away softly each day -too soon- but joy rides the mist over dark pavement in the peace of the night. And still, I stand alone. But my pounding heart deep within, is refined with life. |
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