grief (Remove filter)

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Full rounded heart,

Eyes that are sore with weeping,

Dark like and arrow piercing,

And ever the hand is writing.


You draw yourself, so many new lines.

Role after role you sketch, and toss away.


Mind that is ever writing

My own hard epitaphs,

Blaming my eyes for weeping

Over dusty photographs.


The past is a well told tragedy

And you a...

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griefdepressionwriting poetry

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