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AHEAD OF MYSELF

a poem.

By Yela Published 5 years ago 1 min read

1/4/2021

Anxiety at my door,

Who's that person?

I must have seen them before...

Lurking in the dark corridors of my mind...

It is my shadow, it has come to unwind.

Waiting to be noticed behind all that dread and despair,

Depression is here but little gets in there,

Between that soft spot, a cage calcified by pure love and protection,

The voice hisses outside, waiting to be detected.

It is always on time, and now I no longer hesitate to release these

Demonic projections.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Yela

I write as I’m meant to, just as I breathe as I’m meant to.

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