Catching Dust

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I lift one shaking,
bleeding hand
into the ray of sun
spilling through a ripped curtain,
invading the collection
of dust particles
I reach for one lone,
sad piece amongst millions
and when I close my hand
around that bit of existence
it darts away
like the pain I almost
beg to feel,
and I'm left like this,
the days passing me by
like insects silently buzzing
circles around my head
I can't feel the sun anymore,
can't recall what
true emotion is,
can't lift my eyes
to the stars
one more time,
and I can't
catch dust.





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