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Cyclo

[A Cycle]

By Karla PittPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Warmth of the benign,

Our bodies entwine.

Pouring out like wine,

The beating organ pulses of something divine.

Systematic change, my moods constant combustion.

This sofa, my coffin for the night,

These are my tame delights.

The fumes and the burn,

everyone has had their time; now it’s my turn.

There’s nothing hazy, nothing acidic

It’s not working now being my own medic.

Teach me how to die.

Teach me how to commit a crime.

Teach me how to make myself feel fine.

My heart is busy beating,

While my feet are busy falling.

My acapella is almost dawning,

And in the end when it’s all done,

my day had just begun.

I will not see the sun.

sad poetry
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