Longing - Poem by kendall thomas
We cling to the tribe
longing for safety and comfort,
but these are illusions.
We are always alone and
death will find us anyway.
Like sad children we play the game,
shuffling through our brief lives as dreamers,
and if any memory, only that of
dry leaves scraping across a desolate plain.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You