INTROSPECTION

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Submitted Date 08/03/2019
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The flowers are more yellow

than I remember

The water more quiet

The sun stronger

And the silence louder.

 

Alone with yourself

You notice the tinier scratches

that surround the gaping wound

and pick at the scabs

until they bleed again.

 

Should I cut the stems

and bring a bouquet to dinner

with myself.

 

Yes.

Gives my hands something to do.

 

Now if only I could find something

for my mind.

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