Poem II

Weeks pass

Lacking real definition

Bleeding together

Like badly placed ink

 

Spikes of anxiety

Prick the soft surface

Of a soul swollen

Breaking through its shell

 

The me that once was

Burns screaming inside

As the me I must be

Swims slowly into focus

 

Birth and death

Both necessary pains

Bringing with them calm

Unknown

 

Written in 2016

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