Silent sits the solitary soul

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Silent sits the solitary soulSilent sits the solitary soul,

In nothing but rags and begging bowl,


As Wind whips at wild white hair,

And people pass with nary a care,


Time twists and takes its toll,

Be ready for the final stroll


As memories march in a malformed malaise,

A life well lived for the each of those days,


And death doth dance in delight,

As a spirit is released back to into divineness light.

About Mr BPD

About Author. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and as a writer and poet I explore my madness through the creative arts. I have a personal belief that even in darkness light exists and it is a personal responsibility to always seek the light and I find the light in creating something.
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