Amanda Rosado
Thu, Jan 1

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In a desolate place I came upon a familiar room with long walls that was vacant of anything tangible
Words were splattered in black on the walls as if painted with haste and an unsettling venting desire
In the distance the voice of reason cried out while white noise masked every contemplation
The thickness of fog in the air cleared a path to the door waiting to be shut, and nothing more
One hand lay across my breast feeling the thunderous pounding of my heart as I locked the door
I tilted my head back to open my mouth like a cave and slip in the key to rest with the slumbering dragon
Impassivity is detaching me from myself and I need God’s key in order to cease annihilation


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