Months.

Months Pass By.

7 to be exact.

Arduous, grueling

7 long months.

Without a whisper

Without a word

No sound to be discerned

Too frightened to begin anew

Too scared to start again

Too alive to dream dreams

Too awake to paint poesy

7 months passed by,

I won’t allow another 7

Pass me by

Not knowing who I am.

 

 

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