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Oct 23
A shiny forehead;
accelerating pulse.

I'm anxious to win;
yet thoughts escape me,
like smoke in the wind.

I lost hold of my-
self, clutching onto
this pen in my hand.

Always, I feel it
escalate - defeat:
my sinking sand.
BipolarBear
Written by
BipolarBear  18/F
(18/F)   
34
 
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