Poezie
Factuality
In search of truth
1 min lectură·
Mediu
An inked bract
Of unmarked scrap
A piece of junk
That won’t succor
To exclude the rifts
Between hobos and peers.
A sole missive
Forged by the wind
And voluptuously engraved
By the incessant rain
A strands in macrocosm
Of an outcast rise.
Eras of ill-fated
The nemesis of restlessness
For mortal’s exemplar
A fact not an opinion
God assembled the fiends
For the attachment of his own.
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