Wandering Soul

A hollow pit of waste your life you see in retrospect, while you walk through empty miles of nothingness . The land you tread upon is barren and black, like your heart from the burning hate that drives you on. The only thing to quench the flame of hate is the love you never received. The clouds with the sky always dark as if night rumbling on. Storms like your mind churning not knowing when to snap, but when it does the rain comes down it burns the eyes like hot tears, the tears of want, the tears of pain, the tears for love you always wanted but never received. So you trudge on through the sandy desolate lands of your soul, waiting for your long sought demise...       

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