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A short poem

When doubts travail

When it consumes like a raging inferno

When it grips me with its evil beaks

And grasps me with its lies and afterthoughts

When I feel like I’m already tired tomorrow

Know you have deprived me of hope

Knowing it was all I ever had

Everything felt perfect, but that was

Just what it was;

a mere feeling of subtlety

I feed only on lies now

because my heart is deprived