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Literature Text
When
the sun
grows
cold and
the days
dark.
Tree
branches
stand
bare
on the hill.
Limbs
outstretched
against
the winter
sky.
the sun
grows
cold and
the days
dark.
Tree
branches
stand
bare
on the hill.
Limbs
outstretched
against
the winter
sky.
Literature
Black Ice
Walking on the road Can be very dangerous Due to the black ice.
Literature
Mind-full-mess
Mind-full-mess Aware of my surroundings, empathic to your space. Minding my own business, not standing in your face. Always thinking towards another, of how I may make others feel. Anxiety from my social footprint, that never appears on the other heel. A flood of thoughts assuming, that I hinder and cause stress. Yet it is me that is suffering, as my head is a mind-full-mess. Pp 31-03-2024 Poem artwork
Literature
Hunted
I felt like a hunted animal Lost in the strange white mist That hid a deadly predator But where was I And how had I gotten there? There was no time To ponder such questions As I heard a low dark ominous growl Echoing through the mist like a warning I ran But the ground became like quicksand The more I struggled The more it trapped me in its grip Suddenly I was falling Into a bottomless abyss How? Why? I did not know Fear was the only thing alive In me I heard voices Speaking some alien tongue In the shadows They were watching me As I was being torn apart Why didn't they help? I tried to scream But my own voice Betrayed me The mysterious white mist Surrounded me again Only now it started to morph I could see walls slowly emerging Four of them, all white And heavily padded I tried to touch them But my arms and hands were strapped Then I realized The mist was not real Nor was the predator Or the voices They were all in my head A product of my madness I was not hunted I was
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