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The cracks appear

The void is nothing, so nothing to fear, Try not be afraid when buried in here, A complete empty desolate place, Without walls, windows, ceiling, or base. Darkness reflects back from obsidian, Just an endless vortex continuum, Absolute and utter by self definition, Yet indefinite by its own composition. Oh voids are stark if not very clear, Oblivious, blind, possessing no cheer, Always try and look beyond the black, Thousand yard stare, uncovers cracks. Through crevices, now I see the escape, Voids disappear, if you make out it’s shape, Never throw your hand, under menace, for our own demons, love to condemn us. By David Kavanagh

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 9/16/2020 10:36:00 AM
Well penned David. I know what you mean about those demons. I guess that's why we write.
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David Kavanagh
Date: 9/16/2020 11:15:00 AM
Heya Sharon absolutely I find writing a poem can be very cathartic, when in the void, thanks so much for reading cheers David