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Thousand More

By: JBrewer

Page 1, I wrote this poem while sitting in a park at night. Its where pieces of the poem come from. The rest is from the dark place you have inside, of the things you just can\'t let go of. All of the people you can\'t seem to let go of or forget.

I'm where God doesn't hear my prayers or my cries for help.
My twisted aching screams, that turn into tear filled whimpers.
The place you die a thousand times, then a thousand more.
I see your face, pure joy, pure agony, now deathly pale.

I'm where the wind whispers softly under the night skies.
Blow out the candles that we won't ever light for you.
Amongst your graves, we sit as the wind echoes in our ears.
Rest the family, the friends, many pieces of my heart.

I'm where the water beats against the rocks and splash among the stone.
As you listen to the drumming of the teardrops on your windowsill.
Rushing water holds you down as the inside fills up, you're over your head.
Choke on your screams, tears wash away, just a thousand more.

I'm where I sit alone and feel like all I've been told are lies.
Under the lights, in the center, yet I feel no eyes on me.
Is there after? Was there before? Will any of it matter in the end?
I walk with tears, I keep them for you. This pain, this sorrow, our memories.
I walk,
I walk.

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