Poem Hunter
The Accidental Suicide
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The Accidental Suicide

The skin has torn and the air presses the outcome inside, a failing attempt

As if to hide an obvious sin, and I

Harbour in me your priceless thoughts, and meekly hold them inside

With the sharpness of sickle, an equivalent of a threat

Whose wooden bars my palms hold, with strength that fear spawns

The fear not of dying but of losing a progeny of you..

The ravines never flinched my calves, i have wings, in my mind, i have wings

I will fly through the ravines; i will glide in this narrowness

Just as i glide past quick in your narrow thoughts, for once, then, i am close to your

Priceless thoughts...and i reach out

I grab them, a handful, a sickened synergy, but i have it and i will hold it inside

All along the ravines that run a long length, and stop, unceremoniously, i fall, unconsciously

The skin has torn, the air has blown, but i hold your thoughts, inside the broken skin

With the sharpness of sickle, the threat, the strength, the fear of losing you...

The pond has crystallized and I sit on the bank, gabbing

I gab about my authority over it, i gab about its ubiquity

I gab about owning it, i made it, it is my tears that your thoughts caused

And i ran to

The narrow ravines, i have wings, your populous narrow thoughts


It was an accidental suicide.

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