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No. 1 Trauma

A poem

By Alan JohnPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Mayday;

trauma's parading through my head

and it managed to feel good

I haven't turned my eyes up yet

I know I probably should.

Please stay?

I'm lost with all these friendless ghosts

with the thought to not slow down;

and it's funny in a painful way:

The image of a crying clown.

Do my antics entertain you?

Everywhere I go I'm someone new.

What's this lost boy to do?

Dancing on a string.

Oh well.

I've hurt myself so many times,

at least I know I'm real;

sometimes I feel like a broken man

but it's comforting to feel.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Alan John

I'm a Virginia based writer/musician looking to find my place in this wild wild world.

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