54 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
54 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
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Yasir
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2023-02-15
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***
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Lethe, look at me.
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I know it's difficult, but try
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to look me straight in the eyes.
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I'll cup your face in my hands
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if it gets you to understand.
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You're having trouble writing.
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Your own brain is fighting
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against you, last ally down
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in this sorry hovel your parents called a town.
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No damn place to go and all glass doors snowed in.
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Ultrawhite is creeping close.
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But you chose
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stagnation?
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In any jail, to be confined
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for so long in walls so close
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would as torture be classified.
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Any mind would not be blamed
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for breaking.
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But you can walk out, can step outside,
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can decorate your prison cell
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with stacks of books and crafts
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and a deck of Lenormand
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and tangles of wired things to pass the time well.
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Any muscle atrophies
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when not used regularly.
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Your grasp on our link is weak
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because you've built yourself a shell.
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I promised I'd love
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you no matter what
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even if just to live got rough.
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If you're scared of being harmed,
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just remember
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I'm never
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far.
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I'm not asking
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to go camping
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in the depths of winter all of a sudden.
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But can the world see you again?
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Go outside, get sun on your skin?
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I promise you'll feel a little better again.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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