HermitA Poem by Ana B.Chasing the long promised Oasis of wisdom… Lie is a cogent artist, Never a cause but always a symptom.
Maybe the nearest infinity Hides in the lonely breaths we take… But as long as I don’t know my soul’s nativity Who cares how many heartaches I fake?
And while I wait for the dawn Of the bruised orange sun, I know love craves winners of this marathon yet Dangerous is the person who doesn’t need anyone.
© 2017 Ana B.Author's Note
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Added on February 11, 2017Last Updated on August 11, 2017 Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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