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Untitled 2

Like a stream of azure
Your words run through my mind.
So cool and swift and sharp and sweet
And cruel, but not unkind.
And the stream began to swell
With all that I poured in.      
No stream now, a river with a
Current too strong to swim.
The more I think and add to this
The more I feel the currents pull
The more I wish to drown in it
And drink my feelings full.
And wallow in my melancholy
And only reminisce.
Of better times, with better hopes,
With nothing gone amiss
But this?
 
This is just void
A nothingness
Where nothing lives
And living’s less            
Life-like
But still not death
And efforts lack
To draw each breath

I wrote this yonks ago. Probably about three years now. It's self-indulgent and childish in a sense, but at the time I really thought through it. I'd be interested to hear some constructive criticism from the people of poeticous.

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