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Jan 2014
I look at you, and all I see is dust.
So drained of substance, sparse is left to trust.
Throbs still thrash in, and spawn their nest of lies
Like dancing spiders hiding in my mind.
It's freaks like these I wish to leave behind;
They've scorched your wings, my crossing to the skies.

Oh never mind how they invaded you
When nothing up there seems needed from you.
Then why is it that I can't see how to...

Breathe in the flowers, blow out the candles?
Breathe in the flowers, blow out the candles.

♠ WA
Struggles with anxiety affect the soul's vision.
Hubert Cumberdale
Written by
Hubert Cumberdale  Provo, UT
(Provo, UT)   
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