Turning page

Turning page

The recurring sadness sinks deep within
Even when the moon forbids it to move
It returns uninvited, unwanted
To she who yearns it not; delights it not
Shadows haunt and heats the target spot
Even when she’s frozen by the undead
Souls which drift yet exist not
She knows nothing of darkness but
It abruptly comes much to her dismay
Along with the price she could not pay
Whatever did she do to the life she chose?
When Time promised her wounds won’t grow?
Whatever happened to what love did propose?
Perchance she may or may never know.

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