All those around know not,

the echoing hole

of obscurity

the lack of ceasefire,

and torrent of scars

drenching my mind

compelling to delve back under,

frightful urges grow stronger

I struggle to tie them up

pegs undo the laundry

sheets fall and cover me up

like stains of melancholy

in attempts to scrub clean

the fear of each rumble

that leaves children shaking

sweating on balmy summer nights

under their thick doonas

whilst lightening heats the sky

tearing expansive darkness in two


In truth it all scares me as thunder.


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