The Road of Loneliness

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In the land of sleep
I lay sleepless
Taunted by the echo
Of my own voice

A moment a memory
My fingers ache to touch
There is nothing to feel
You do not exist
And will never be

At the end of it all
You are the bitter but
Sweet mirage of illusion
On the road of loneliness

Posted by

Not much to tell, antisocial, bipolar, loner, poet. That's me in 4 word's.

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