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Click herei'm ragged
edges of frayed
nerves,
a bundle
tied in tight-wired
bales,
with painful
realizations of
ends.
There's an explosion
Waiting to burst.
There's a fire
Waiting to burn.
totally,
in the absolute
dark.
i'll wait here
where i sorrow,
fraught
with meaning,
nothing shouldn't be
said.
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,500 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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