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Jul 2024
Seeds of doubt churn in streams of hurt
Blazing trails from brain to heart
It all collects and pools deep
Turning me prisoner
Before life spills over the razors edge
Ribbons of red spill over, off the ledge
Must I follow?
Must I alway question the reality of every tomorrow?
Who wants to trade me for this sorrow?
Who has a reset button I can barrow?
No one?
Thought so
I'll just go

©2024
Jeremy Betts
Written by
Jeremy Betts  42/M/Washington State
(42/M/Washington State)   
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