Poem: Place

A comforting trench with ample options,

a place to search for new horizons;

where fears are set in motion,

and dreams would fill with poisons.

At times your mind attests realization,

and your lodge fills with your burden.

Fairly, it is a dire sensation,

and yourself must you pardon.

With a shawl on the ground,

and the flow of many lives, in your mind

if you haste you won’t be found,

Say, do you want to be refined?

The hidden sores tend to welcome

in the place, you are burnout

on the edge of the tears, your hope is beckoned –

in the place, the truth you flout.

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