These words have no meaning.
A metaphor, perhaps,
an impending ice age covering the landscape while I run from the freeze.
A turn of phrase, it could be, I never wanted anything to stop my destruction, and she jumped on the grenade to save me.
A rhyme, to mark the time, the wind brings me a smile,
Thinking of you drinking in that happy place about a mile
Away from my hands, you can stand on your own and
Find a new home while I wither alone and drink my lonely tears,
I’m stuck in my fear and will be for years…
These words have no meaning, when they sit on your screen, on your printed page you read them and translate into images of your own experience
My life is my own and when I write I feel a release of captured agony,
Does it reach you?
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