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The Waiting Room
The trees breathe, out 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 muster
I can’t seem to shake this cloud magnetic
it clings t...
Wednesday 23rd July 2025 11:53 am
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