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Anesthesia Loss

This...
This...
Whatever it is
What you say it is
It is not beneath me
I am beneath it
It is the typical me

And this is me too
Laying on my floral crash cart


The cold anesthetic of my
Self-protection mechanisms
Trickling at a steady flow
Out of my eyes
And between my pursed lips
They do no good anymore
My system is over-loaded
And I am immune


Now...

What else can I do but cry ?



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Comments


  • TheStupidLamb
    February 18
    Edit | Reply
    good poem.


  • Atrophya
    February 17

    Edit | Reply
    i would say poor baby, but seeing as how you kinda yelled at me for one of my comments on one of your latest poems, i won't.