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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #883124
When God seems far from us, hope is all that's left.
Absent

You echo in the hundred holes
That riddle every day,
And watch behind such mirrored eyes
My every struggling way;
Ghost shadow of my wandering feet,
You mock my every move.
Your windy kiss is in my hair
And thus my tear’s reprove.
Can it be I must embrace
Such silent, barren seed,
To fill the hunger left in me;
Subsist on hope in need?
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