The wishing well.

June 9, 2012
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I’m slipping down a well.
Falling faster as your voice slips away.
I’m beneath the surface now.
Dripping wet in this cold place.

I find the pocket change that I once threw.
They called this place a wishing well.
How could it be? Mindless to kiss dreams.
I begin to walk with blind eyes filled with dark.

It’s a whole other world down here that is familiar.
I feel scared but safe to know I’m away.
Away from you and the rest of this dying world.
As I descend underwater, this is my good-bye





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