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Eliot
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Poems
Sep 2019
On loss
First, the tears.
They build up and up and up,
Never falling, not just yet.
You stop breathing.
You start gasping for air,
The poison in your lungs, your head,
Making your head spin in all directions.
And, if you try to stop,
You end up making it worse.
Calm down.
Breathe.
But in order to calm down you must write,
And to write you must calm down,
The entire paradox
Sending your head swirling.
Vision blurry,
You stop thinking clearly,
Less clear than before.
The world a huge kaleidoscope
Of sadness.
Every attempt to find what you lost
More desperate,
More unrealistic
Than the last.
Each rejection,
Each nonexistence
A greater blow
Than the last.
And suddenly,
You
Can't
Breathe
At All.
And you're crying yourself to sleep,
Trying to make up for what was lost,
To make amends.
But you know,
Deep down
You'll never be okay with it.
That loss defines you.
Just a rough draft, needed to think clearer.
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