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Click hereI wrote most of this poem a while ago, but I've only just finished it.
It is late, and this constant compromise
between thinking and breathing is exhausting me.
I am a stranger to my own reflections.
The earth rotates slowly through the skies,
away from the sun, towards my dreams
I shiver and I realise that the dawn has not yet arrived
As the death of someone I have loved
slowly sinks into my heart.
All these memories go rushing past.
I am lost, in this unfamiliar place
where my dreams seem far too real
and even the passing of time is coming apart
Because something has crossed over in me,
and it's never coming back.
It's hard to believe,
but you're never coming back.
I find the appeal of poetry as you have as well - to express the thoughts and emotions from my deepest gut. To exorcise demons, or at least try to learn to live with them, as painful, or sometimes joyful, as they may be. I hope it works for you.