The night has chiseled a thrifty corner for sleeping
as the day crumbles away again.
Such drudgery blisters the mind
and can only minister to these wounds
by closing eyes and a mind where thoughts
are deserted like every body
left behind by the heart
not to be hobbled
by insignificant love.
Leave me,
a prisoner
who is afraid
to walk free
when she is already there.
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