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The feet burns sore from the scorch of the sand. Feeble breezes played with the corners of my tattered garb. The sun, adamant, in punishing familiar travellers from distant lands. Lost in the dunes, always... Like a ribbon caught on a wire’s barb.

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Written by

ryn

For You?

Written by

ryn

Published: Jun 27, 2018
LinesWords: 1743

Tags: #hellopoetry107 #deserted

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