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It’s coming for me
Shuffling into my room,
Hands full of destruction
Plopping onto my resting place, without the bed frame,
Hiding crumpled tissues
Refusing the entrance of the beaming light into my cave
Staring at the IPad screen,
Selecting the big red “N”
Having the murmurs if Bubba J wash over my yielding body,
My body rising to the occasion of destruction
Waiting for what comes next,
Tomorrow or freedom?
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