Feelings caught become the trap
waiting for unwary saps
wishing something to address
the crush of sad loneliness
that need to put aside the shield
armor worn against the storms
rain combined with thunderbolts
puts up ashelter to console
these echoes matter little now
when the gulf between the souls
eternal silence becoming all
matters more than paling scars
still the snares may intrude
set with bait hung with hearts
this matters not when the void
is safety's realm that none rejoice.
© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.20190928.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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