The Weeds

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The weeds circled around my wrists,

their cuticle bruising my dried skin

Oh! The cells were meant to be shed...

A thorny branch circled around my waist

Hush! I must not speak,

but my breaths betray me.

In the confines of my heart,

I can clearly hear the quickened beats...

I shut my eyes tight,

the weeds must not know

that I lie wide awake...

Hush! Don't breathe

the weeds must not know

that I am awake...

I must choke these betraying breaths.

Somehow halfway through the route,

I realized,

the weeds never really cared

if I was awake or sleep,

for they were after all weeds

that just wanted to engulf 

my now bruised skin.

But do not worry,

the cells were meant to be shed...

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 13, 2018 ⏰

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