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Jul 2018
I lay in bed
and tell myself how my day went.

Thoughts revolve slowly,
a galaxy
around an emotional black hole.

From the spiral I pluck a thought
and give it a name.

It sprouts wings
and flutters away.

Sooner or later, the lights flicker and dim.

My consciousness slips softly into the night.
written May 5, 2017
revised July 8, 2018
Left Brained Poet
Written by
Left Brained Poet
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