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Poetic T
Poems
May 2020
Chair Bound In Survitude
The smell of sulphate,
emanating from that
accursed thing, its aura glistened,
seemingly smouldering .
But when the breath of life
died beneath sunset,
A Spector of ill conceived retention
contemplated.
Daybreak was mutilated upon the sight.
established placidity..
#wheelchair
#death
#bound
#ghost
#anger
#captured
Written by
Poetic T
On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)
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