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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

he was drowning, down in a hole.

Submitted: June 28, 2018

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Submitted: June 28, 2018



Beneath the blue, he found himself- blinking desperately.

a soft breeze in the wind that only bit into his flesh. Weak, and thin he was- and all he could ever be. Eyes sunken and dripping with sorrow he watched the moon laugh.

waited for the low humming of the darkness to begin to claw through his skull. a wall of fear built like a shivering child. abandoned.

grossly attached to his face, were his features that lagged his heart till his bones bruised his skin. dried and weary.

his hands, dipped beneath the water. at that moment, he understood the feelings of a wingless dove.

the moon, laughing at him.

his head was buried underneath the sand as he picked his shattered pieces of self up from the suffocating blue.

running, he would fall. swimming, he would drown. and flying, he would collapse.

breath for air, and falter for the death of his wings. oh poor marie, he cried.

yet the moon with a grin, his taut flesh prickled into an unsettling appearance. making his stomach churn and his heart sink.

the unattainable. impossible. to fly. while the sky was grasping him by his throat with spite.

the moon, so far away yet imprinted into his tongue like the very taste of hapiness he has seldom become accquainted with. once, and nevermore


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