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Sleep, a distant memory after a wake
Suicide makes sense,
Death; Escape
Solitude is a scrape
On an empty plate
Syllables are sickle cells
In veins full of mace
I close my eyes.
As I see a new day.
Written by BluntHonestMel
Published
Author's Note
Inspired by the “A Poets Insomnia: Micropoetry Competition.” This is about a typical night after my head hits the pillow. Thanks for reading always.

*40 word limit Including Title*

-Mel
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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