Sophie Arden


The Condition

Ah, there it is,
that need to cry.
This eye silver I never cherished,
but always longed to expel.
It only takes a word, a memory of a shadow,
and all that lay dormant does stir,
All that was silent will scream.
For broken hands can not cling to dreams,
nor spliced hearts sing in the crisp morn.

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