Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Monday, 4 July 2016

What am I, now you're not here?

To think, that I,
just take a thought,
Hang on it,
some sense of sport,
Drives that outweigh,
All I feel,
Considerations,
of what's real,
And realise,
You're no longer here,
That I have been,
Possessed by fear,
Now I'm alone,
Self-made & free,
What am I now,
Supposed to be?

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