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Lottie White
Poems
Aug 2018
the past is the past
There's a cold,
sputtering flame
where my heart should be,
burrowing deep
and building a fortress
so tall
you cannot see its peaks
kiss the clouds.
A heavy weight
that's sat on my chest
since before I could breathe
is slowly becoming
a faded memory
as each chain link rusts
and falls free.
#free
#verse
#forgiveness
#depression
Written by
Lottie White
25/F
(25/F)
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