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 May 2020 Pagan Paul
Nylee
Little lily buds look at the sun
they smile and bloom
the morning begins so beautiful.

I worry about yesterday and tomorrow
keep missing out on now.

The more I see,
less I want to say
no longer want to stay.

The days get hotter and hotter
this budding cruel summer
I cannot enjoy the simple flowers
this bed has become my world.

I am tired when I sleep
fatigued awake
I need fresh oxygen to breathe
I've become living bone
all alone
.
I try to see the beauty in a rose
But it smells just like a **** to me.

My pen is filled with lovely words
That I can’t put on paper.

My heart’s aware that it’s been robbed
Of everything that’s velvet

But it beats on in vain attempt
To recognize a bluebird.
ljm
I was quite blue a while back. I'm OK now.
 May 2020 Pagan Paul
L B
Worry
 May 2020 Pagan Paul
L B
I am officially worried about you.
 May 2020 Pagan Paul
Poetic T
The smell of sulphate,
            emanating from that
accursed thing, its aura glistened,
                  seemingly smouldering .

But when the  breath of life
                    died beneath sunset,
A Spector of ill conceived retention
                                             contemplated.



Daybreak was mutilated upon the sight.
                                            established placidity..
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