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Drowning in Panic

Festering silently
waiting to crush
all my ego
and self-hood,
sacrifice all
of my pride
and my vanity,
thrash my endurance
and cloud my humanity,
here it comes dancing,
the Jester of Death.

Not that you'd see
what it is
that is taking
my soul to basement
for hammers and nails.

This is the portion
of being adjusted
that calls like a stake
in the heart of a whale.

All of my days
become roots
in a sentence
with tendrils
of leather
and anchor set sail.

These are the thoughts
that follow me closely
looking for moments
to toss me the rail.

runningturtle87
Written by runningturtle87
Published
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