deepundergroundpoetry.com
Before I go mad...
Where are the vicera the hearts
the gasping souls struggling for breath?
there's not been enough letting out
of trapped fears and imaginings
not even whimperings but only
the steady drip of routine's repetition
a dull hum composed of what's comfort
I won't say soporific but there it is.
I need to read Plath
before
I go mad...
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