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deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Dark Mind
I think of death and have my whole life;
trying to hide thoughts on it
that shaped my mind when I was so young.
I stared at his dead body; my abuser’s,
In some deadpan stricken relief --
saved from suicide.
I don’t know where those thoughts came from;
the ones that said I had to die. But they left me.
I’m sensitive to know that death is a part of life.
If death is on my mind, then it is in my bones.
My dark mind is filled with my own.
Just to be certain.
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