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Writer's pictureSophia Michelle

Before We Grow Old



There must be some freedom in death

Amid this eternity of stagnancy

I cannot help but seek more depth

It is finally learning to breathe

Only to find the air is poisoned

Choking, guttering, without a moment of ease

In time, perhaps

Just a bit more

Who can take hold this steadfast heart?

That beats fervently and wildly without restraint



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