The lost souls

Falling, deeper and deeper
in the gap between
the lands of hate and love.
It's called loneliness.
First it was only a rip,
but it got deeper and wider,
washed out by the rivers of life.
They tried to build bridges,
but all of them broke up.
Flying was senseless as
the weathers blew them away.
Now they call it the Grand Canyon.
I, for myself, call it
the Canyon of the lost souls.
And I'm one among many others.
I'll never come up again,
I expect, but from time to time
there are winds blowing me up.
But in the depth there's only darkness,
and only when there's a lightning
from above the gap,
you can see all the others.
Thousands of lost souls,
and I'm one of them.

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