Sorrow

You see my friend the voices are back, they chat and whisper so.

They show me shadows, the twists in the light and tell me secrets only they do know.

They feed on sorrow, this pain I know so well, and turn this to words and worlds, stories and poems to share and tell.

The sorrow is my mistress, my creator and my muse, without I’d be little at all, it defines me so.

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