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Mar 2016
Everything stopped growing when I stopped trying;
now my watering can is empty and my garden’s always dying
but whatever, now it’s over,
it’s over and I’m stuck-
I wish I didn’t care about this friend’s fake love
that silences could easily be filled up
with this middle filler ******* to get me out of a rut
but nothing is working and my eyes won’t stay shut,
and the flowers in the compost tell me my time’s up.
I put myself on pause for a break of sorts
but now I can’t press play as I once thought
and I’m watching, out of the window, car exhausts.
Smoky trails, like the way I talk.
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
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