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Apr 2020
It’s empty, the place where my words come from
I face the northern light
My back to the unknown
My mind drifts,
My thoughts sail
My poems never seem to unravel
To no avail
So I face,
Let the hand drag me deep, in the thoughts that were never reveled
And let every unwritten poem,
Every tremor throughout the years,
To the sea.
EBTI
Written by
EBTI  Riyadh
(Riyadh)   
152
   Bogdan Dragos
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