Sunday, February 18

hold up the bucket,
for the absent rain to fill the abyss,
a few droplets,
drown any feeling of worthiness.
it makes me wonder,
that if my head hits the desk frequently,
and hard enough,
whether unconsciousness will take me.
into the dark folds,
of memories knotted in with day-dreams,
and my nightmares,
that could've been actualities.
i won't look down now,
convincing myself never to fall,
but i was wrong,
no need for fear or feelings at all.

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