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Aug 2012
I hold tight to my locket
Splotches of grey cloudingΒ Β my vision
I wonder if my eyes are falling out of the socket
And I think with such terrifying precision
Rapid expansion and contraction
My breathing is out of sync
And its starting a chain reaction
I'm sliding toward the brink
I hate this hospital bed
I hate this room with its sickly white walls
And the ever-pressing reminder of the dead
That sometimes pass down these halls
Nobody talks straight
Always just euphemistic *******
I need someone to translate
I want to quit
But I won't, I can't
To sever my ties
To uproot my plant
That would only quicken my demise
I will hold fast
And hope that it can last
Patrick McCombs
Written by
Patrick McCombs  26/M
(26/M)   
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