A letter from limbo
Step by step she lost every ounce of happiness in her,
This is not a suicide note it's a monologue,
Strangely every full moon the wolf got weaker,
She prayed that she wouldn't live long.
Couldn't put the knife to the wrist,
So she wrapped the pen with the fingers,
Bleed through the ink and watched the naivete wither,
Ink to paper was like blood on the dance floor,
The rhythm of the curves and strokes could tell that the dancer was in trance,
Limbo, in between life and death, one step away from her final destination, I saw it, I ran and now my own ghost is chasing me.
Copyright © Omozefe Omokhudu | Year Posted 2024
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