Simplicity White walls. Wooden floor. A bed in the corner, Where I used to sleep.

A dirty window And a closed door, Shut out the memories That it hurts to keep. An old wicker chair. A frayed washing line. Several shards of glass From a broken picture frame. Very little light, And constant decline; That’s what caused me to slip, And drown in my shame. Choppy wind. Dusty clothes. A chip in the wood At the foot of my bed. Ripped shreds of paper With words no one knows, Has taught me to never Say what I said.

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