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Philosophy, Poetry

It’s Time

Being alone is a state of being
A mind journey, twisting and pulling
Blackening the face of even the brightest
Cutting off the purple veins of grace
Does it feel good?
To feel this way, so far away?
A simple answer can not be found
A simple gester has fallen down
It’s Over
And here I stand
In a state of being, a truth
Abandonment seems natural
Only physical, the mental leaving ages ago
It’s Over
It’s Time
Time to be alone



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