Desolate, Barren, Cold,
These words describe your heart,
where I am so uncomfortably nested,
I try to start a fire,
but,
the wind and cold blow it out,
I can see a huge fire,
Bright, Warm, and Red,
off in the distance,
but I cannot reach it,
For it is not mine,
So here I sit,
Numb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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