Shutter me.
On the verge of throwing yourself into a cavern,
As if you weren't in one already that is,
You take the time to think it through
But it only prolongs the inevitable ending boiling inside you,
Warming sickness and crisp nausea tingling inside the belly of the beast,
No words needed for coping a non-existent tragedy,
But you run frightened holding your pieces in a bag marked insecurities,
It's called a life, live it well for you own it in entirety.
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