so much potential
compassion majestic
expecting trepidation
sweating in the snow

unfolding flutter
falling under
pain becoming focus

losing rudder
“God,” he muttered,
“here becomes the storm”

the mirror warned of torment
fighting ghosts with knowing
nothing more for
me to hold
besides the bedsheet
stuck between my teeth

terrified of falling stars
and bluer seas to drown in
build a cabin
deep inside the forest
there's a clearing
where I dream


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