When I wake up cold and empty.
After all the good within me.
Slowly drains out of a hole and I can't cry.
I try to speak and all at once I find.
I have no feelings or emotions left inside.
There is no smile upon my face.
I'm trapped inside this lonely place.
Even though I searched the world I'll never find.
An answer to the questions in my mind.
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Comments about this poem (Cold by Mark Normand )
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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