Solitude is where like hands met flesh beneath yet still darkness
Its unfamiliar touch was like a morroader
stealing away what did not belong to them
Its unfamiliar touch was like a morroader
stealing away what did not belong to them
They found me alone
where no men were allowed to come and go as they please,
where no men were allowed to come and go as they please,
Yet they wait patiently for freedom to ring
Still familiar hands stole te fabric of me.
By Rafael Solece
