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Aug 2020
these are the days were the voices grow louder than my own thoughts
were the feeling of postmortem flutters through my head like a butterfly,
allowing my childhood thoughts to chase after it, with hope and light in their eyes
and all I can do is watch the light fade and the memories dissipate into thin air.
allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper into the thought

of postmortem.
Mikey
Written by
Mikey  18/Trans/my bed
(18/Trans/my bed)   
27
     --- and Autumn
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