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Anxiety.

I've eaten no food in days,

Nor have drinks to sustain.

And yet inside me grows a well,

Flowed with poison and shame.

 

Eyes lead to the soul,

And my insides, they are churning.

Why would I think this a good idea,

My senses are all burning.

 

These sleepless eyes, are open wide,

My conscience soon to shut.

But before I go I need to see,

That this treachery will come to a stop.

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Written by
matty-graham
Australian
Published
May 9, 2013
Lines·Words
12·74
Notes

April 6th // 2013

Permission

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