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  • it was one of those days where
    the fragmented forms of dreams crept ever-closer
    into the light of day
    she felt as if even the moments she had alone were
    encroached by the unwanted visitors of her thoughts
    neurons like soldiers firing at wrong angles
    old faces appearing uninvited at the door of consciousness
    never able to rest in the stillness she craved
    in the depths of her being
    these visions that propelled her feet into movement
    only to find she had walked herself in circles of
    widening discontent
    which fooled her into thinking they were important
    relics of some lost age
    that she must search for endlessly in the eternal quest
    to appease her thoughts
    yet their promises always lay broken at her feet
    or in her bones which ached with the tiredness of a thousand lists
    yet to be made, crumpled
    into a little ball she would relent
    and reveal the depths of her brokenness only in sleep
    which too never seemed to quench her thirst for nothingness.
    This paradox held her in its grasp,
    yearning to fill herself up with the world yet wanting to slip
    forever into night’s embrace.
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