Wanderer

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Soft white clouds hanging between lands and skies.
I found myself wandering under it in search of missing pieces.
Till my conscious knitting a memories of broken past with the present.
How an angel could be a demon?
You, left me in an empty room.
In darkness.
In sorrow.
In misery and vain.
With a knife and a coffin.
Till I carved the coffin into a boat and row across the ocean of hope.
And here I am, wandering under the vast blue skies.

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