Mirrors That Listen
Insist I didn’t exist bad to exit the mad, exhibit all that I ever had so cryptic & sad.
Delicate flesh sensitive to the touch, I wasn’t
relevant enough to digest the dust.
Beckoning my heart in sorrow begins, apart & reckoning tomorrow it ends
In tears that mention my afflictions, to the Mirrors That Listen to my addictions.
Copyright © Roger Byrd | Year Posted 2022
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