No birds or angels fly
across the wounded sky
storm clouds holding onto years
of unshed tears
clothe the sky in swirling grey
the edges fray
tearing a hole in the dark membrane
a spreading stain
of sunlight pools upon the ground
hope is found
struggling up on tattered wings
it sweetly sings
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This is painfully beautiful!
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Thank you so much, I am pleased to see you ❤
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I was so glad to read your wonderful poetry again!
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❤
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