Letters, time is already past,
Wordlessness has conquered fate.
The hand is out of my hand,
loneliness catch my heart.
A complete emptiness, it captured the
all over the capricious sky.
I have my poems I write, I get
words to cry, or to flower.
From beginning to end it is my journey to a destination
vocation is. Love was rent,
of tender is not spoiled, then it went out.
I love the still non-verbally,
I miss you immensely.
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