The Pen and The Wind

The writings and musings of a windswept soul.
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In a sandy bar in a desert somewhere,
Angelia drinks the strongest of ale,
 Haunted by her past and future, 
Her ghosts, her only company,
She sits in her solitude,
Letting alcohol give her a brief respite,
And she’ll never have her proper cure,
As she wistfully stares at the sand in her beer,
For all others are invisible to her,
She is both chained,
And all too free.  

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