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The Waiting Room
The trees breathe
down in the garden
I pause my lungs
running on fumes
I want to work
but the world seems unconvinced
As I begin to speak
a howling sigh of wind
Snuffs out the spark
of my feeble dream
I’m covered in cobwebs
in my waiting room…
A strange amorphous shape
swells and swallows
Even the vaguest sketch
of hope I can muster
I can’t seem to shake
this cloud magnetic
...
Wednesday 23rd July 2025 11:53 am
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