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Dec 2014
Rammed into an ill fitting life
like a cheap suit,
bursting it's seams,
it's ripped open fabric falling to the floor,
like the tears that flow from my eye's.
So here I stand, naked,
no more clothes left on the rail,
no vestiture to hide my shame,
just the coitus interruptus,
as the day slips out of my soul.
sometimes all we have left is our own vulnerability.
Haydn Swan
Written by
Haydn Swan  Purgatory
(Purgatory)   
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