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Jun 2019
Being so removed from what you made me,
Time moves so slowly.
Not quite grasping the truth of anything.
Each breath catching like a barb,
Pulling a little bit more of my soul with each Labour.

Around me the air is thick,
Bogged with imagined snow.
Freezing those that see me to the spot,
Captured in the void with me unable to flee.

You appear to me in my madness.
β€œHush my wounded prince,
May my lips grant you clarity”
Stunned silence and unbidden tears.

I deny you,
You died an eon ago.
Unbound from your shell.
You dance on the cracks of my broken mind.
David Watt
Written by
David Watt  milton keynes
(milton keynes)   
71
 
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