Cyranny's Cove


How empty
Can an aching
Soul be?
Trapped in
A golden cage
Oh, so shiny.
Silence pours
From your
Widened pupils,
Quiet scream
As your essence
Slowly spills…
You peal
The layers off
Your onion heart,
Not knowing if
You wish for
The end or a fresh new start…

Can I hold your hand?
I won’t say a word, if you let me…
But just answer, this one question,
How empty can an aching soul be?

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