Disconsolate Souls Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Disconsolate Souls
Running, always on edges, afraid, trying not to fall
over.
Inside cringing, holding on for dear life - why we
don't know.
Ever slipping, sliding into chasms of deep ebony,
mortified by many uncaring people, leaving
disconsolate souls to die alone within themselves.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
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4/16/2024 7:10:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
