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Michael
Poems
Feb 2017
Emphysema
Your voice rises up like worms from the earth.
No matter how deep I bury it, it claws back out,
To think of its tenor brings me nothing but hurt.
Your voice rises up like worms from the earth;
To see its gaunt face, a fresh mound of doubt,
The day you left me you had no room for air.
Now it's me, who can't breathe, lungs filled with despair.
draft
#death
#confessional
Written by
Michael
32/M/New York City
(32/M/New York City)
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