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He*~*art (poem)

Ebbing pain…ebbing? It’s still so clear. ______  is my memory stain. I now get lectured from my brain, my heart once blossomed just feels… plain. That person’s out there in this plane… and maybe that person must feel the same. But how? Why? and Who cares for my trust now? And am I insane? It feel right to cast blame in spells of violence, with all my mustered might, I can’t quell the thunder of this silence. Those explosions hammer and resonate to a beat, a beat, a pumping heartbeat.

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It's been a while since I posted a poem. So much irritation subdued in frustration. The creative bell rings less often when these distractions soften the blows to vibration and stifled timing. Here I