my feet grip the ground and i breathe deeply in,
whispers of wicked sin
icy mountain tops glare down upon my fragile frame
they’ll maim me i mutter
as i trudge through the pain
whirling wind whips me walking
i cant stop when i already started stopping
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Author:
jake (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2022 19:09
- Comment from author about the poem: oldie
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Offline)
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