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INSIDE MY MIND
i can feel the passion
churning in the pit of my stomach
as i reach for that pen and paper
i scrawled visions of overgrown
trees, and shrubs, and wild grasses
the words unstoppable, brewing images
of chaos spiralling
like tornadoes.
i stopped -
and plucked a solitary rose in bloom.
was it too late to realize
that outside,
everything stood still, unaffected
by the wicked assault
in my psyche?
