Friday, January 16, 2015


For the rouge-wanderer
It feels like a crying defeat
To admit the ache in his heart

Silent like the night, the voyager

Surrenders to his wild feet
Gripping his mad soul, lest it fell apart

With the tide, comes the drifter 

Eyes world-weary, smiling sweetly
Into the unseen, he departs swiftly.

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