I don't know when it started;
Probably some cold, water-colored dawn
Hidden away between sheets and sheets
Of sharp lines and tear-drops.
I don't know what kept it going until now;
It should have faded away like the wallflower wallpaper
Spread across the living room walls
Whispering secrets that no one can hear.
It was strong though, like a beat of a drum;
Strong and resounding in the air
Piercing me from one side and coming out the other
A cold iceshard launched between my ribs.
Feelings are curious things;
I think that very often.
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