Sorrow stricken, heart ache
Life moves at a slow rate.
Empty vessels and empty mind
Trying to fill the hollow bind.
Voice of reason and voice true
Finding the light and all the hues,
Mending what they call the blues.
Recovering one self and all its health
Healing hearts what comes wealth.
Reaching past for another strand, in all its glory grand.
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Nonsense from Anne Nuen 