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Writer's pictureSEBSTROKE

Sporadic Trepidations


Headache, isolation, just before breakfast

The morning cold warms the lonely soul.

Coffee brews, ego is bruised

Leg is numb, same old songs

Leave the room the sky’s not blue.

Mind lagoon forget the bloom

Fallen dreams chasing fears

Sneaking in; hands are free

In and out, long and steep

Ceiling creeps in, walls break free

Damaged ears sing for me…

…I once knew an old flower

before shredding its last petal, she said to me:

-When in doubt step back, don’t be taken aback

In time, we will all see this is nothing but a dream.

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