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I’ve been in a white room

For days, albeit feels

Only like an hour,

My mouth feels lifeless

And terribly sour.


I haven’t seen the moon

Or the stars,

When I look in the mirror,

I see ghastly scars.


Monitor-beeps still sound

Heavy in my head,

Keep me away from

The colour red.


I don’t take fluids

Through injected pipes


My feet feel fortunate

To finally feel

The floor.


Do not ask me of  

My identity or credentials,

Or the tattooed initial

On my cervical spine,

I’m unaware of what’s

Presently mine.


Nothing in my mind

Is near to being clear,

I feel like I’ve just

Arrived here.


◄ Changes

A Coachman's Lament ►


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Wed 24th Apr 2024 18:31

Yes! Manish!

onward&forward! 😃

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Manish Singh Rajput

Wed 24th Apr 2024 15:52

Thank you Kevin.😊

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Mon 22nd Apr 2024 22:35


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Manish Singh Rajput

Sat 20th Apr 2024 06:24

Thank you so much my friend, with that, I feel like I've achieved what I wanted to achieve from this.
I'm grateful for your support, it means the world.😊
And thanks to all who liked this one.

Tim Higbee

Fri 19th Apr 2024 14:55

Hey, my friend, even with some of your memory blocked from the accident or because of it, a certain mystery is injected into the imagery of the poem.

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Manish Singh Rajput

Fri 19th Apr 2024 05:46

Is it Graham? I'm sorry to hear that.
This had happened to me 10 years ago, in 2014, after an accident. I still don't remember the happenings of that particular day till today.

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 18th Apr 2024 20:06

I think I've been in that place too!

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