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Cloud

My heart was a train,

Racing down the tracks,

Derailing. 

My mind was an F5 tornado,

Hot and cold mixing,

Deadly.

My wrists were a rope,

Each thread slowly tearing,

As the blade glided along the skin.

Cutting at the misery.

My misery was a Hydra.

It grew close to ten heads before I realized.

The realization set in like a hurricane,

The tree limbs of my mind blowing in the wind.

My sanity held on strong to the stump of the tree long blown away.

Its grip loosens,

Panic sets in. 

A hand slips,

And my sanity disappears.

The winds and rain stop.

The blade shatters as I drop the knife,

A drop of blood upon its tip.

My head is a cloud,

Floating away from my tired body. 




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