THE SIGH

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The ceaseless onslaught of maniacal fragments.
The lathering of concentrated convictions.
The delicate bias between the two.
Somehow I lost my way.

The tenants in the other apartments.
My father’s hateful predictions.
The love that proved untrue.
I lived another day?

The cold floor upon which I lie dead still.
The twist top poison I deeply involve.
The layers of stability peel
I need a resolve

I’m so numb; I’m not positive anymore as to what is real.
There are feelings I fought for years to try and dissolve.
Emotions are flowing, though I cannot feel.
They mutate, and evolve