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Mar 2021
It is not tomorrow yet
But today
Why does she cry?
What makes her wail so?
Was it me?
Should I be punished?

The wind breaks on the shore like glass on my memory
Sand is forgotten to time like so many martyrs
They throw themselves upon the sword of my own paranoia
Bleeding lies

Again I am besieged
surrounded yet alone
These context have trapped me so
Who are you-you who steadily tip toes through my eyes
         and inner-most desires?
Are you the demon I've been chasing?
Steve Parker
Written by
Steve Parker  39/M/Fort Worth, TX
(39/M/Fort Worth, TX)   
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