falling apart


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1. poem

I lie here looking up at the ceiling,

and I wonder if the world is ending,

or is it my breaking heart that I hear,

I’m sure I hear it shatter like glass.

 

I’m sure I can hear the world tear,

like the tearing of pages from a book ,

or is that my story tearing apart,

tearing the last chapter out my book.

 

I can feel it happening slowly so slowly,

I am being blown away slowly falling apart,

I am blowing away like ashes on a breeze,

slowly crumbling, falling apart and drifting away.

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