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Unfaithful

I could not understand amiss

Admist nothing and no situation

Where this sadness was born

The linger of a second-hand kiss

All its false loves and adoration

For what tears with no salt mourn

I wondered

Was it intuition 

And why so naturally

Plundered

The vision

As a heart sank sadly

My hands like the clocks ran circles

Touching everything

To never be the same

©️ The Sad Owl

Categories: poetry Prose

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

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