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Rated: E · Poetry · Health · #1878797
I sat upon the cement floor as the clock struck four.
Cement Floor


I sat upon the cement floor
as the clock struck four.
The sky was a crystal blue,
I remove myself from you--
the clouds were an amazing white,
birds, cardinals, made it less tight.

I sat upon the cement floor,
a yawn, relief unlike before--
the trees were a green and brown,
overlooking the hustle-bustle town
alive with the symphony of cars
in the distance, a cry so far.

I sat upon the cement floor,
I ignore that dreaded door;
Raising my hands to heaven,
always count to seven--
breathe in and out, out and in,
slowly exhale, the tingling wins.

I sat upon the cement floor,
spirits and clouds at my core.
Breathing becomes shallow,
yet I feel none of the tallow
the candles flicker
and drowned out are bickers.

I sat upon the cement floor,
No longer wanting that door--
I sit upon the gray in peace,
away from stress and pain, at least.
I say goodbye,
no more worries and cries.
© Copyright 2012 Future Mrs. Boo (dunkelhetstern at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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