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Blue seas shrink away,

Salt-pans drink the sky’s wide hue,

White crystals are born,

Harvested with care and toil,

To season our humble meals.
Good morning hellopoetry community, rest for me today have a wonderful day ❣️
I can feel the rough rope
Gently caressing my neck
Embracing it like an old friend
I'm not afraid, I'm just tired
So very tired of everything

So I take a deep breath, 1, 2, 3...
And in a passionless swift move
I kick the bench under my feet
Dance in the air for a little while
Until I finally find my peace
Note 1: this poem was reported and taken out of HP. After a review, it went back on (gladly Eliot York has more sense than the one who flagged it).
Note 2: if you're having this kind of thoughts, please, talk about it. Seek help!
Original note: Another nightmare I had last week. Woke up sweating and frantically kicking the air.
It's not like suicide is a new thing to me - I attempted it when I was 15... but I haven't had suicidal thoughts in many years. And that's as scary as it gets. I don't wanna give in to them.
Where too, shall my soul seek immortality?
It hath been found in work and people — 
Are they not noble pursuits?
But Death they found, surrendered, feeble.

Heaven called, why not try I?
So sought and found sweet streams.
Rested but for a while — 
Until consciousness awoke my dreams.

Did not Shakespeare claim the pen,
Is mightier than the sword?
Now keys replace ink,
But still, words cannot be ignored.

Words create our worlds,
What doth they saying of you?
Breath sweeps o’er the mountains
Worry not the truth is still true.
A coin tossed in air,
its shadow stretches on stone—
is it fate or desire?
A cloud hangs low, still,
pressing on the city’s spine—
does it ever breathe?
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