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__ Still in the stillness of the night, I dream about my own my own demise – And I don’t know whether it’s a prophecy or just these thoughts on suicide… By the heat of another long summer, all my fears spring up; unfurling like petals – But as a pretty flower without any colour... And I still cry myself to sleep, always behind this pretty smile In the cold grip of winter, I melt away - Drowned in inner tears, and like my clothes: I'm burdened by a heap of thoughts - more to the pile!
0
Dec 9, 2024
Dec 9, 2024 at 1:13 PM UTC
I'm a pile of clothes at night
__ Still in the stillness of the night, I dream about my own my own demise – And I don’t know whether it’s a prophecy or just these thoughts on suicide… By the heat of another long summer, all my fears spring up; unfurling like petals – But as a pretty flower without any colour... And I still cry myself to sleep, always behind this pretty smile In the cold grip of winter, I melt away - Drowned in inner tears, and like my clothes: I'm burdened by a heap of thoughts - more to the pile!
OddOdysseyPoet
Written by
27/M/Zimbabwe
Dec 9, 2024
Dec 9, 2024 at 1:13 PM UTC
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