Defeat and anxiety mumble as walls of the invincible crumble.
Beseeching hands of solitude reaching for the twilights.
Imprisoned indefinitely inside the looming towers of gloom, never to see another sky so bright.
For Three Line Tales, Week Thirty-Two
photo by Steven Wei
Even hurt, sadness, and pain are not set in stone.
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reads like lines from a dystopian period….
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nice piece nelkumi.
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Thank you. 😊
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Lovely Lines — almost makes the imminent peril seem quite nice 😉
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Appreciate your kind words. 😊
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You are most welcome!
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