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At a point where my body caves into pure air
there is a clostrum, impregnable silence
surrounding the cinder of a sinister leaf.
The dark cypresses of this world root uneasily
above these emerald caverns,
where in black twilight I am the ashes of loneliness
Poetry on the run 
Dark yet wonderful words. To be ‘the ashes of loneliness’ how lost we would be.
Anna :o]’
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It is the loneliest way I could think of to describe the feeling of being lost in that vast underground cavern.
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