Insecurities
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In the shadowed corners of my thoughts,
In a whisper,
not heard,
l i n g e r s— unseen by the eye but
felt.
A tremor under my skin,
a pulse of doubt's steady march,
where questions collide with silence,
I own rooms in these echo chambers
which contain scattered dreams
Sometimes
in what seems like
perpetual night.
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2025
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