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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2272966
A poem about poor soul's inability to appreciate the simple things because of anxieties
The Gift Not Taken


The day is new
The sun is out
The birds are singing
Outside my window
And I'm in the darkened bedroom
Lying in bed
With my puppy in my arms
Feeling sad
Feeling afraid
Having anxious thoughts
About nothing in particular
Thoughts about an
Amorphous event
in the Future
Which might never come about
Because I fear
Death
Claiming me
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