A silent turning inside,
grating as it rolls,
Clawing at my subtle skin,
Leaving me bare and raw,
Raked and riped,
Somewhere, you are out there,
Maybe I don't even cross your mind,
Or bring it pause,
Just a distant memory to be flushed away,
Like old bath water,
It pains inside me,
The not knowing,
The wondering what if,
it drags me down deeper and deeper,
Till I feel crushed,
Crushed under the weight of my own despair,
A dry crust of bread left for mice to chew,
A pit, or rind,
I am but that,
I caress my naked bones and beg of them to fly,
Urge them to feel the wind beneath them,
To rise once more and walk,
I have fallen,
Dust beaten and broken I lay,
No one to console me,
No one I will let through my door,
All trust crumbled and fallen to dirt,
Like the dry brittle leaves of years past,
I beg for sleep,
endless sleep that will hold me forever,
Comfort me in its arms,
And take me away from this endless throbbing.
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