“To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.”Robert Graves
To the outsider. To the stranger. To the misfit and the misunderstood. To those without community, the outlier with no home and no pride. Solitary – the lone wolf, passing by unnoticed. To those who walk a path of silence. The footsteps you hear are only your own. You speak, yet no one is aroundContinue reading “Solitude”
I have echoes.
She has ghosts.
I have echoes of grief, of strain and pain and agony.
She has ghosts that haunt her waking hour and monsters that peek behind curtains drawn….
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