Another day, But a hollow feel;
Certain depths of me feel uncertain.
Harder it was to stamp and seal.
Unfulfilled it was, and full of pain.
'Where' wasn't the question to pose.
And neither was the day she would return.
She drowned in my nerves but never she rose.
Mystic it was to see the parched lands burn.
In the depth of my heart I searched for her,
Scanning every grain of sand.
Sadder I felt on not finding her,
Insecure I felt; on the this dry, burnt land.
None would fill the void of this lone soul's glare.
Gone she was, but just the empty blue chair.
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