Isolation, At times It seems, Wraps Your being Stifles Your dreams Cotton stuffin spills From the pillows On which u rested
Embittered by delusion U lose sense of direction
But as a gray wind blows You clutch your chest Yellow embers ignite Indigestion Your test And u may cry out to heavens, Goddess What is it That I need? And she answers In all earnest
“U must seek the keys To your Green…. “
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