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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #822631 |
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Sometimes this life feels empty
Like walls with no one living inside- The shape of hope still plain Amid the crumbling stone. Not ruins, No, But movie storefront façade- Outer form of make-believe. Silly me, To think that Love Is some measurable presence, Fickle emotions The measuring rod of reality. You are not gone, Just hidden.
© Copyright 2004 Lobelia is truly blessed (UN: mamahobbit at Writing.Com).
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