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Aug 2020
People say I'm a rock.
Sitting here, I wait, not knowing who.
My heart ached, like ink drop in water.
The rain glow over eastern gate,
defeaning the sorrowful people.
Downed in solitary,
the muffle cannot shatter my loneliness.
old willow
Written by
old willow  17/M
(17/M)   
225
 
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