lost soul
fiction
edward w pritchard
Be there a soul that isn't lost?
Judging always judging improperly seeing everything
Trapped in Karma, with it's impeccable memory
Prosperous as Midas, slowly starving to death
Who will go to the airport to pick up a lost soul when returning from nowhere?
This I, transitory and illusionary, not this not that, dolefully stops not for hitchhiker's
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