The echo returned not,
lost in the catacomb
of cold hearts that forgot
love of their mother’s womb,
that today counts for naught.
The echo returned not,
blown away in the storm
of caprice ego taught,
negating embrace warm,
choosing to love abort.
The echo returned not,
for amidst thought chatter
bound in a narrow slot,
heart’s tears do not matter,
as by dark desire caught.
The...
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