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by MyDystopiA

The moon comes 
but nothing is all I got. 
The trees refuse to speak 
and the breeze 
no longer heals my pain
like rain 
the words would fall 
but now nothing, 
nothing at all, 
blank pages appall.
I look inside,
a grey brick wall 
and I wonder
how it got so tall.


©JMCole 

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Friday 19th May 2017 5:51 pm

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