www.whyville.net Feb 12, 2017 Weekly Issue



Mylo9810
Times Poet

Pilgrim

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
HOT TOPICS
POLITICS
HEALTH
PANDEMIC
my breath, a ghost
frigid air from cold stares
i sailed across worlds, between lines of hesitance
decisions carved in stone, bruising my sorry hands

my tongue, caustic
plunged into foreign lands
i traveled empty halls, a hollow, heavy husk
sandpaper swallows, half grateful and half nervous

my nights, alone
tear-stained sheets from the ache
i searched for amity, finding dismal shadows
but then, a firefly drifts, a candle flickers

my hope, triggered
gathering the fragments
of my broken mirrors
reflections of the past
i realize are no less, no more

my fate, searching
for future, let it rise
despite these lacking pieces, lurching stomach ceases,
and golden lines of silver trace my prize

 

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