Concentric circles
Ever smaller
Closing myself in
Spin the desperation
Into a quiet grave
Whisper your name
Like a curse
I am blurred borders
Messy shadows
With every word
A flinch and
With every silence
I’ve trained my love
Into a dagger
Bled intention
Made it hurt
Kindness only
Smiles are weapons
Corpses lain
In brutal poses
Across sick
Faces under
Sullen eyes.
Living is a series
Of slow deaths
Punctuated by
Fleeting light
Reflected from a
Razor’s edge.
Nova in the gloom
Too soon forgotten
While the world
I am not built for
Stitched together
Of lives interrupted
A macabre existence
A walking exhibition
Borrowed futures from
A withered past.
A cipher and an epitaph
Eternally unread.


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