17 ene 2021, 21:17

Fully Empty 

  Poesía » Formas graves
1544 0 1
I walked without a path or reason
for far too many pointless days.
With the slow passing of each season,
I remained locked in my empty ways.
With no dreams to strive for, I lingered,
gradually forgetting my true self.
What was once brilliant, now cinders,
what I once was, none could tell.
I had seen so much and met so many,
adrift in a mesmerizing sea of faces.
Of my vast ideas, there weren’t any
and of love there were no traces.

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