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Literature Text
I rise from a bed of jeering brass,
my breath gone white
in a room filled with smudge pots.
On the last hour of the final day
with fingers gone numb
I gaze from a window,
memories of a choleraic dream
brush against the pane like strangers
from layers of winters passed.
Don't make me regret all of this
now that I'm about to be shown
in the fraction of a heartbeat-
to purge me clean of this plague
with nothing left to trail behind
oh god please
Don't sully me
with baggage of a stratagem
meant for you and not for me-
if I let myself think about it...
my breath gone white
in a room filled with smudge pots.
On the last hour of the final day
with fingers gone numb
I gaze from a window,
memories of a choleraic dream
brush against the pane like strangers
from layers of winters passed.
Don't make me regret all of this
now that I'm about to be shown
in the fraction of a heartbeat-
to purge me clean of this plague
with nothing left to trail behind
oh god please
Don't sully me
with baggage of a stratagem
meant for you and not for me-
if I let myself think about it...
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© 2011 - 2024 Jade-Pandora
Comments16
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its a good poem which does justice to human nature, and to how we are left to fend for ourselves when things either feel awry, or we just don't get the kind of answers or inspiration which was needed at that moment. Its well written, delivers its message well, and is overall, a balanced portrayal. I personally like it. Well done.