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May 2014
I'm wandering like a lost soul,
And as the sun sets, I feel so very cold.
I feel as though I've never been here before,
My feet are tired from walking so very far,
And my eyes have been open too long,
I'm so very sore.
I must look like a mess,
Even in my favorite shoes and dress,
I only came to impress.
Our conversations felt so estranged,
I feel so wrecked,
My heart feels so manged,
And in such little time,
So much has changed.
I'll leave you two at peace,
My attention is no longer needed,
My existence, to you; has ceased.
I run from you,
Closer and closer to the edge,
No more prepared could I be to face death;
But then I awake in a panic,
Trying so hard to catch my breathe.
Clutching my covers for dear life,
I search in this scattered mess for my knife,
I need to end this panic,
I don't want to again become manic,
It's so very hard not to indulge this impulse,
This urge feels so titanic.
Metaphorically; my life is a joke,
Even in the mornings when I wake,
I cant breath,
I cant see,
On my own breathe; I choke.
I'm so scared of being alone,
I'll risk anything to keep my heart strong as stone,
But your kindness chills me all the way to the bone,
The thought of your body on mine makes me moan,
A slave to my depression, no longer will I be prone.
Blythe Barrymore
Written by
Blythe Barrymore  Portland
(Portland)   
453
   Victoria
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