Apr 2019
An endless stream of self-eulogies
crashing onto tile,
like bones conceding to concrete.
The whistle of terminal velocity
harmonizing to a death rattle,
a melody for tired ears.
crashing onto tile,
like bones conceding to concrete.
The whistle of terminal velocity
harmonizing to a death rattle,
a melody for tired ears.
Written in April 2019
(26/M)
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