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Incomplete.

A tiny piece of me
Has died for good today,
The hopes of one of my dreams
Hang from a rope so frayed.
The inner child who loves to play
and is sweet and curious in a lovely way
Has left for now and in its stay,
Is a feeling of being incomplete.

This feeling is like darkness
It does not really exist but
Is an entity in itself...
Liken the loss to the dark
and the coldness of the dark of pain
Except the pain is real
The pain of being incomplete.

What do you feel while reading this?

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