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Embody

Madness of getting old.

By Sleeping Pills Published 2 years ago 1 min read

The emptiness is filling up the space,

I can feel the wind blowing through my body,

Only the mirror and it´s grace,

Please, can You all of this embody?

Once up on a time i was fabulously beautiful,

For men in ties very much suitable,

A bird in the nest, they cut off my wings,

And now I am just filling up my drinks.

My body is turning into dust,

It´s the gorgeous mirror that i can trust,

It can see that my heart is coloured in grey,

I fear, he is about to blow me away.

Sleeping Pills

( We are getting old.)

artBalladexcerptsinspirationalProsesad poetryvintageslam poetry

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Sleeping Pills

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Comments (1)

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  • ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 years ago

    Mortality is a monster; meaningful poem. Keep writing!

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