Like a shoe, worn right through
like the temple’s doors crumbling
from the avalanches
My torches stopped burning so bright
once the infectious headaches rolled in
I didn’t know where to guide myself to
without some sort of moon phase
I walked anyways, trudging through the dark
wandering close to the river’s side
edge close, but so cold
the breeze even was jealous of my heart
My warmth died out, my head said do something
my body screamed louder
and now I’m sinking into a ditch
not too scarce
Not sure where this ends, how this works, why this happens
but I’m here when I’m not
and not when I am
Worn Edges // 2 Minute Poem. B.T.
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