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 Jul 2015 r m
Jack Thompson
A fallen man down in the mud.
When it's gone it's gone or so they say.
Hope and dreams slipping to a thud.
Numbness filling me up turning me grey.

A short break from the muddy water filling my lungs.
Fleeting will, reaching in a last chance.
Could it be that all I needed was to try again.
Lifting myself from my submerged stance.

I've been in this spot before.
Every time I get here I'm flung back into chaos.
Destined to return like the waves at shore.
I don't have a shred of control and I'm the boss.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015

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