Persephone of the Songstresses, she
arose and spoke without dissimulation, a
verse of Successive Despairs spinning round
a Thread of Blue Pigmentation and Hue.I broke my silence and then it broke me.
Painful as Torn Skin when Brushed by the wind
that Severs defenses then Opens doors.
I synechdosyze and part ways with myself.
I'ma Disassociative Depressive.
I'ma a reed of resilience in Verses,
I accommodate them on the Sofa.
I let them be a while then they must go.
Go inside, find peace and solace, Hallowed
Retrieval. Be mine again, be unstirred
in tranquility and wellness of Word.
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