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⚠️Trigger Warning: The following poem contains subject matter pertaining to self-harm and suicidal ideation⚠️
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When I told them
I felt like
dying,
they backed
out of my life
as though it were a
graveyard
at Witching Hour;
each facet on my spine
a willing tombstone;
blood scrawled upon
my wrists
like epitaphs;
every footstep
echoed
by the scraping of a shovel.
They were prepared
to bury me
even when I was still alive.
Imaginary funeral bells
rung in their ears
until the diminuendo
of my voice
faded
into the last note
of swan song,
My Final words:
don’t leave me
lost
amidst the cemetery’s
tolling.
Image Source:
Black and white graveyard gif. [image] Available at: http://www.lowgif.com/view.html.[Accessed 23 Jan. 2021]
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