The air we breath
Is no longer sweet
We are slowly falling into our own mistDesires and hatred trapped
This is not the dreams I have
For all I know love is the healer
And the battle is a trap
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Oh, How Cold And Treacherous
PoetryA short poems that I hope you all like or relate to This is a picture from google.
Mists
The air we breath
Is no longer sweet
We are slowly falling into our own mistDesires and hatred trapped
This is not the dreams I have
For all I know love is the healer
And the battle is a trap