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Apr 15
i have travelled
for miles
with parched lips splitting scarlet,
crescent eyes wandering the skies
searching for a meaning
that cannot be found

something like courage sleeps
tentatively between my brow,
my hands reach within me and
come back shaking,
both palms filled with fear
yet i do not dare lift an eyelash
at fate, it tests me as it must,
i suffer as i should

this is the life of a musafir
, *
a journey of the self that never ends, a pain that lives almost infinitely
and every breath
that passes, passes through in breaks

*musafir: persian word for  traveler, wanderer, passenger, etc.

feels unfinished but iā€™m okay with it
Midnight Rain
Written by
Midnight Rain  22/F/In the depths
(22/F/In the depths)   
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