My meditation ends gently,
Unable to move limbs,
Pulsating heart pumps,
Thick unforgiven blood,
The breath unforgiving,
Vibrations of my soul,
Rhythm with heart and lung,
Calmness, a cold mans game,
But the antithesis a,
Mistress who anticipates,
This blackened charcoal board eats away at the core like a termite about to bore through soul that I tore!
And the door,
Seeking that calmness,
Grows cold as my home in December.
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