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apollota Jul 2017
I wonder,
how many kingdoms
have I blown to dust
to get where I am?
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I haven't written in a while, however I'd like to start again. It's 2 am, this thought crossed my mind and I couldn't get it out. How much of life have I missed out on because of my anxiety and depression? I imagine the percentage is quite high. I want to start going outside more, putting my dusty camera to use. Perhaps this short poem will give me the courage to do so.
-=-
2017-07-24
Regan Morse Feb 2017
Her footsteps were as light as could be
as she ran across the void,
glowing in the cloudless night
as far as the eye could see.
She stopped slowly, eyes wide with realization,
She could be free.

So, she stood, head held high;
Shoulders stiff, holding the weight of the sky,
as she faced her labyrinth of pain.
Of lies and suffering.
Of utter agony.

She let not one tear fall
as she walked on,
determined to flee from the place
she had once called her safe haven.

They never did see her again.
She disappeared without a trace.
Lost inside her own mind, they said.

Oh well,
She was one of many they had to pull the plug on.

She wouldn’t notice it anyway.

They never did.
The first poem I've ever posted so I hope you like it!
I haven't actually studied the correct way grammaticize poems so any feedback will be appreciated.

— The End —