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May 20
A cold white mist
on the horizon.
An Eire voice that
sounds like bees.

Am I floating?
Am I alive ?

A choir of innocence
immersed in sorrow.

Standing at the Barb wire
of the saddest place on Earth.
Trying to understand
the unforgivable.

Being led by conscience
and a buzzing mist.
Lifes choices are hard
and usually unfair .
But, you choose
and move on .
Hoping you will not
need to be forgiven.

The path forks through
quiet emotions.
But , the truth is always
well hidden .
WL Schuett
Written by
WL Schuett  M
(M)   
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