Six Times

I can't feel it anywhere else but bones
Or that hollowness in my gut
Where minor inconveniences are grown
Like in a garden i don't know what

But i do know enough to be self aware
And as a result grief stricken
Life always told me it didn't play fair
And i get sick at how the plots thicken

Mountains made from mole hills
When I'm run away with my thoughts
I know better but still
Let myself go on to nothing, distraught

Spiraling out for i am motionless
Rooted in an inherent haze of indifference
Cultivars of my devotion has
A harvest withered for my limerence

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