Published: 26 May 2018 › Updated: 26 May 2018
Anguish
It floods us. We are harmed in multitudes of multimaskers mutilating our March.
The spring of flowers is trampled upon but the sudden winter thought to be so far away.
Burning with ice, it’s stops life.
What is this, that such even the tenderness of hope is crushed so brutally, by a simple act of trust.
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