mired in the bog, unseeing eyes staring into the fog,
what becomes of a soul so filled with strife, that all of life, seems with tension rife,
what becomes of the soul that yearns to be whole, clawing at the freshly dug hole, a tomb of dreams torn apart, the cemetery of joys meant only to depart,
what becomes of the heart, swirling in the maelstrom of regret, cursed by the burdens of not being able to forget,
what becomes of the man, desolate and empty, devoid of yearning, as day turns to night, and night to day,
what becomes of it all, when hope scurries away … … …
So beautiful and deep!
(Made me wonder; and I guess, when hope is gone, everything loses meaning.)
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your sentiments are shared …when hope is gone, all else loses meaning. so very true
thank you for your kind words, my friend ✌👍😼
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It was my pleasure. 🙂
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☺😼
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Sorry about your cat. 😦
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thank you. Very kind of you. She was a dear friend.
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Hmm. I hope you find comfort in others’ company as well.
Might I say, your writing is really inspiring. There’s a lot to learn for me.
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Thank you again! yes, the company of others is something I cherish, and am humbled to have loving and warm friends ☺
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🙂 Great to know!
Best wishes 🙂
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🙂 thank YOU … my very best wishes and warmest regards, my friend
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Ahhh it pierces through my emotions
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am humbled and touched. Thank you, dear friend … 👍✌☺😼
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🙂
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👍✌😼
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