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Oct 2014
It's warm here, not just hot, burning,
I think, my stomache feels, turning.
How do I get out, where,
why, does no one else care?

My head is glowing, fingers dripping
sweat. My intestines are tripping
over all and themselves.
Deeper and deeper, as if this fire
delves a way inside my body,
spreading like disease, like virus,
like epidemic forces
combining us to fight.

These short moments brought back sight
to those who lost it, those scared at night.
But it will pass soon enough.
I over and under but I'm never really
right.
Daan
Written by
Daan  Belgium
(Belgium)   
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