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Despair is a wild thing in my chest that knows no repose. It fills my veins with spectres of hope that vanish and I drown in text

Sleep is elusive. Hides in the back of my mind behind the myraid of fears I didn't know I have. I know I should sleep and text

Sometimes I think poets like me are meant to be alone, to love in the purity of a vacuum, to love illusions and hug text

I am the one that came from the sea with aquamarine waves at her feet. Wild and mysterious as the seaspray. I am the cry text