A mind, a quiet room, suddenly
the door bursts open, uninvited guests
with muddy boots, tracking dread
across the clean carpet of my peace.
They whisper, sharp as glass shards,
"What if the sky falls, right now,
a blue ceramic bowl shattering?"
Or "Did you lock the door? Really?
Is the stove off? Are you sure?"
A fly buzzing, trapped behind my eyes,
its frantic...
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