Does anyone else
how it feels the pain
up the dead man?
In my dreams pot
is empty again, and apple flowers
the pieces are full of desolate country.
June shout rain
overflowing the land green.
I am like the female spider,
I go to the rain shelter to sleep.
The sky screams of seagulls choir,
waiting for better days.
Emptiness fills old
oak barrel, which is somewhere
an empty barn into the depths forgotten.
So am I. emptiness
full of the whole person.
I listen to the lonely spaces
human.
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