Corridor Of Nothing Menopause
Agh! Oh how I burn,
for that which will never be mine.
Shivering thin branch, me.
My forebearers weep.
Agh! Oh how I burn,
for the corridor is long and black.
Lined with closed doors,
a crisp light around their edge,
voices ever beyond.
My forebearers weep.
God! Where are you?!
There was no answer.
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