I lament the essence of dew, Ephemeral yet pure. I cling to promise, Black and blue, My fraility, an ode to you. In the cold dawning of spring, I fear salvation’s sting For hope is a broken wing Carrying me through misguided ways, Denial days And quintessential phase. I lament the stone in my shoe, Wait on omen, time and clue To prove sentiments untrue, And my heart a precious jewel. Am I lost or found, Is my truth silent or is it loud…
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