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The dark comes in close Wrapping me tight tonight, And I search for someone To save me. Helpless, alone, Just embers left To guide me From the candle fuse, And the darkness closes in around me. Begging, pleading, I strain to be let away, But its grip is tight As an anaconda, Tracing its fangs to my neck From my shoulder blades. Within an inch of foresight, I can feel my heartbeat waning, And hear teardrops Pierce the night silence While the city sleeps; I ask once more for someone To give my feet placement, But one cannot hold another’s heart Whilst forsaking their own, And thus, one cannot give another their heart If giving is expectant That to whom it’s given, Will put back together, For my mistake, Was hoping for someone else, When I, so many times, Could have freed myself, If only I put myself back together, But I’ve swept the shattered pile And sewn the tattered pieces, Slowly feeling more encouraged With every change in season With now, a reason, And even a desire, To press on.
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Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 7:30 PM UTC
Embers Immersed in Darkness
The dark comes in close Wrapping me tight tonight, And I search for someone To save me. Helpless, alone, Just embers left To guide me From the candle fuse, And the darkness closes in around me. Begging, pleading, I strain to be let away, But its grip is tight As an anaconda, Tracing its fangs to my neck From my shoulder blades. Within an inch of foresight, I can feel my heartbeat waning, And hear teardrops Pierce the night silence While the city sleeps; I ask once more for someone To give my feet placement, But one cannot hold another’s heart Whilst forsaking their own, And thus, one cannot give another their heart If giving is expectant That to whom it’s given, Will put back together, For my mistake, Was hoping for someone else, When I, so many times, Could have freed myself, If only I put myself back together, But I’ve swept the shattered pile And sewn the tattered pieces, Slowly feeling more encouraged With every change in season With now, a reason, And even a desire, To press on.
47 lines, 279 days left.
Static_Heartbeats
Written by
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 7:30 PM UTC
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