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Nigdaw Aug 2019
You cannot touch me here,
In the land of dreams...
Suspended between death and reality
By a slim thread of consciousness.
This is my space, my refuge
Where I can re enter
My embryonic state,
Before thought,
Before sight,
Before emotion;
Just the warmth of existence,
Not having to belong
Keep up,
Shape up,
Shut up,
Make something of myself
All I had to do was exist;
I was precious once,
A pearl in an oyster
Not a stone in your shoe.

— The End —