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Nov 2018
sometimes I dream of a recluse by the sea
as he paints the waves into obscurity
as they scream with prejudice
whilst he ponders of all the coffins that lay beneath the ground

the brick walls he rests upon
have sharpened the hole in his heart
and the overwhelming emptiness of world that lasts too long for him to forgive

the pale sreets he prances on
are tempting in their isolation
for isolation always feels adequate
when silence is delivered in fragments
and your heart no longer beats in time with the rest
for it is now sharp, and swollen
Isabel Aghahowa
Written by
Isabel Aghahowa  18/F/London
(18/F/London)   
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