Searching Poem by Frances M

Frances M

Frances M

Wales, the land of sheep and strange accents

Searching



Tormented young souls,
Washed up in the sand,
We cannot depart
this bloodstained land.

Screaming, Scratching,
Away from the night.
Do not forsake us
wayward Moonlight.

Tormented young souls,
Washed up in the sand.
A new day breaks
it falls apart in your hand.

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Frances M

Frances M

Wales, the land of sheep and strange accents
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