the descent
My eyes deceive me,
Wondering, worrying
if I am free.
The current pulls me out
it's disorienting.
yet, you don’t see me pout.
Forty won’t come
But you promised.
so fragmented, so gruesome.
My eyes deceive me.
It's disorienting.
so fragmented, so gruesome.
Copyright © Mitchell Dees | Year Posted 2024
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