Mid life, mid December she strains hard to remember the last time she was smiling. She can't fathom a way to cope through another day with head in her hands she starts sighing. Her eyes flood with sorrow as she contemplates tomorrow she longs for hope and begins crying. Depressions normal instinct when ones love is extinct is to watch a lonely heart dying.
Reason for writing:
A certain distant sun a friend used to wish upon died that day. E-mail me with critiques please..Birth sign: Not entered
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