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Drowning in a Puddle
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Personal (Melancholy) I’ve drowned in a puddle,
and imagined a rock
at the bottom.
I’ve held my breath
long enough to realize
I was suffocating
on my own tongue.
I’ve cut my wrists with pity
and waited until I bled to death,
but the end never came.
And every time the pain
was poured into me,
I discovered my hand
was holding the bottle of poison.
