Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash
Iron fist in a velvet glove
Wrapped as cuddly coercion
Wishing to pluck myself out
Of my humanness
Too sickish from soaking up
The pains of the world;
For the first time in a long time
I sit limply on the floor
Knowing I am at risk
Of internal combustion
Inward collapse
Or inevitable implosion.
About the Creator
Diana C.
Here to pen, polish and provoke thoughts.



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