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Poem: December Second


the rain awoke me from my slumber
gentle kisses on my window pane
leaving running tears across my dreams

the wind whispered ‘just go back to sleep
there is no need to stir from your bed,
now close your eyes and stay locked inside.’

truth is I am made of gingerbread
cold air slowing my molasses heart
the bitter rain would wash me away

outside I’d crumble into crumbs
my sugar and spice blown to the curb
then rinsed from the streets into the drains

yet there is this voice inside m head
that tells me: “You were made to run! run
as fast as you can, they can’t catch you…”

And so I did. And so I do.
Risking the raindrops one more time
because life is for the living;
sleeping is best left to the dead.

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