Poetry by ML

This is a story that describes the inner workings of my mind. I normally don't like sharing my poetry with anyone but things are changing.

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8. Shadows

The darkness call me,

like mama birds to their young.

 

Shadows search and search for

someone to claim. 

 

Trees hide the light and blow cold,

just like age does to you when getting old.

 

Darkness isn't friend or foe,

but rather a guide or compass, 

to discover lost hope.

 

If darkness calls, 

don't ignore it,

answer to be polite,

let it enter your walls.

 

You can't find out if you belong

to the dark or the light

if you never let in what gives you a fright.

 

No one can appreciate the light,

without knowing true hate,

it's incredible to find out your taste.

 

Darkness isn't a friend or foe,

but rather a guide or compass

to discover lost hope.

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