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misha
Poems
May 2019
there was a reason.
There is something living inside all of us.
Horrible filigree fear and existential dread.
Seeping through the membrane,
gnawing at the bones.
If this existence is all there is
am I just a vessel for something greater?
I want to believe that I am free,
but I can still feel it.
There are tender hands reaching inside
caressing my heart with deliberate touch
and withdrawing sharply
to lick off the blood.
If this existence is all there is
then what is the point of resisting?
Resistance means to fall gracefully,
severed from the source,
to die, to decay, to be consumed,
and then forgotten.
My meaningless data will be overwritten
by someone who doesnβt question
the loving violation of hearts
and the delicate scabs that form
sealing the ports, keeping the terror
from rising once again.
It's real existential crisis hours y'all!
Written by
misha
23/F/under the sea
(23/F/under the sea)
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CLARYT
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Jules
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Traveler
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