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The Forsaken man on his last stand
In a forsaken land, a man stands alone,
His heart echoes with a melancholy tone.
Beneath a desolate sky, where shadows dance,
The forsaken man yearns for a fleeting chance.
Whispers of the wind tell tales of despair,
His footsteps echo in the empty air.
Through barren fields and forgotten sands,
The forsaken man walks in distant lands.
A silhouette against the fading light,
His soul tangled in the threads of night.
In the silence, echoes of lost dreams,
A mosaic of sorrow in moonlit streams.
Yet, in his eyes, a glimmer of hope,
A resilient spirit trying to cope.
The forsaken man, an embodiment of strife,
Navigates the shadows, seeking a new life.
The Forsaken man...The Forsaken land he stands on top of the loose sand.
© @David_vs_a_word
His heart echoes with a melancholy tone.
Beneath a desolate sky, where shadows dance,
The forsaken man yearns for a fleeting chance.
Whispers of the wind tell tales of despair,
His footsteps echo in the empty air.
Through barren fields and forgotten sands,
The forsaken man walks in distant lands.
A silhouette against the fading light,
His soul tangled in the threads of night.
In the silence, echoes of lost dreams,
A mosaic of sorrow in moonlit streams.
Yet, in his eyes, a glimmer of hope,
A resilient spirit trying to cope.
The forsaken man, an embodiment of strife,
Navigates the shadows, seeking a new life.
The Forsaken man...The Forsaken land he stands on top of the loose sand.
© @David_vs_a_word
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