Poem -

Thirsty Wall

Thirsty Wall

They are high walls.
I need keen eyes to see their ornaments,
But their veins are thirsty,
And their foundations are red.
Only blood drips from them onto the garden.
Only a violent, yellow, stormy wind blows from them.
Thirsty walls
Eat hands
And steal lips.
So, you will find no beautiful voice or gentle touch here

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