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May 2013
The surroundings are drowning my sorry soul  
but my fingers are too feeble to pry me away.
When nothing feels familiar,
I won't find any more than an empty bleak bed with wrinkled sheets.

I'm drearily dancing away from hints of lost enchantment
that come my way every time I close my tear soaked eyes.

I know where home is and it is not where I lay my head.
Emma Azura
Written by
Emma Azura
363
   Nat Lipstadt
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