my wrinkled heart like the desert rock
is indifferent to the passers by
neither the scorching sun of the day
nor the coldest wind leaves a mark
for a keep sake for a shorter, or
a longer care for her safekeeping
promises for sailing across the gigantic
ocean, for i’m a rock in the desert
is indifferent to the passers by
neither the scorching sun of the day
nor the coldest wind leaves a mark
my skinny frame desires none, needing
no one to admire, or to considerfor a keep sake for a shorter, or
a longer care for her safekeeping
my matured mind needs no props, support
from dogma, or assurance with culticpromises for sailing across the gigantic
ocean, for i’m a rock in the desert
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