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Home » Poetry » Issue 1 » At rest

At rest

Locked behind closed doors, the insanity within arose.
The imbalance of life questioned. I am no philosopher
Or scientist but I insist that my problems had solutions, a
New world formed due to unprecedent circumstances.

Bound by laws and statements by humans suffering from anxiety, I froze.
We were all blind, although we could see color, we could not see death.
Turned on the flight or fright mode. I decided to paint my wrist red, my
Soul left my body and flew with birds as the sang a song of despair.