Poetry · Writing

space in the world;

i find comfort in solace

to retreat to my corner write a rhyme

it is an organized crime, murder- right before bedtime

yet

solace is never kept lonely

i carved my space in this world built on fiction

i will not blame anyone for not being real

made it myself love the appeal

check on the time but that is not real

blood on the walls carved from stainless steel-

solace is my emergency contact

it knows i exist

just never picks up

 

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