deepundergroundpoetry.com
shh
go back to sleep. close your eyes and drown peacefully the way you do after a sickness.
you are a sludge-and-butter creation rancid in the mould of the cellar.
you have a little something on your face- some misery- in the corner of your mouth.
no, it's still there.
what, did you think you were a goddess? did you think you were a queen?
were you so sure that the world revolved around your little tornado insides?
leave everything,
go back to sleep
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