Published: 17 Apr 2018 › Updated: 17 Apr 2018
care about that wound
In the spoken word,
stored so deep sense
Crowded, because stuck,
have no guts to reveal
Trying to care is useless,
if always ignored
Already accustomed,
even into daily food
No more wishing for more
If only the pity you give
And this is not the outpouring of the heart
But just a stroke at night
Leave care about that wound to:
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