No, you will never be the same
They call this time, Mar, the “bitter” month.
They call this time, Mar, the “bitter” month.
A poem about lovers and the Tower of Babel
I have a voice but too often my voice has not been heeded
All I can do is stand here planted at the shores of the sea.
In the midst of wailing…a pause for creating
No is the one who left the building
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