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Living Death

Thank you for reading.

By cookie footPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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I am not good very good at letting people in.

My tongue handcuffs sin.

My gray metal teeth are the

hard and cold

metal bars to a dingy jail cell.

I may not be doing the best

plain and dead

It's nice to know you're well.

A rose whose thorn

has never felt

the softness of your skin.

A headache sworn

nemesis

of every dropped pin.

A lone cowboy

with pockets full

of some truth to sell.

The dark places

behind the stars

after the sky fell.

There are many who have never known me,

I have never been.

My eyes are eyes you could never see,

Death is not an if but when.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

cookie foot

writing is my therapy don't bully me

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