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 Oct 2021 Jared Botelho
Aishu
Dear self,
In losing you

Days seem blurry
Nights seem scary

Heart grows weary
Eyes turn teary

I lost the merry
I lost the power to write my story
It hurts to breathe
It hurts to try
It hurts to fight
It hurts to hide
It hurts to lie
It hurts to live
It hurts to pretend
Fear whispers in the night.

"Come,"
the voice of a fallen angel.

A voice like wind chimes
being dragged down a gravel road.
Like a harp
tumbling down a staircase.

Fear slithers from under a tinct veil of doubt,
that dark curtain hung behind my eyes.

Fear is there,
disguised as apathy.
Sopping with facades.
Laden with guilt.

Fear is here and I see it clearly.

I wonder if everyone else does too.
The hunger for being with you
Was greatly penetrating
To see your delicious attractiveness
And wish I could love you essentially
I've laid a place for you
A place at our table
I'm calling to say you're welcome
You're welcome at the table

All around the world people
Set new places for friends and family
A place for friendship
A place for peace
#peace

— The End —