Photo by Zanyar Ibrahim on Unsplash
Empty hands are cold,
the bystanders ignore warmth,
and the light dies slow.
About the Creator
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More stories from Luna Jordan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Empty hands are cold,
the bystanders ignore warmth,
and the light dies slow.
More stories from Luna Jordan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (2)
Oh well, it is what it is. Loved your poem!
What a lonesome poem you have written here. Good job on the emotion of the work.