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Home and Lovesickness
Hoping to rid herself
Of the omnipresent angst from the mourning,
Mourning the loss of her lover
Ere she will grieve his loss for ages,
Ages that have yet to come
Necrosis never leaves her,
Damned to hurt and to
Long for who used to be,
Ousted by the cruel hands of the creator
Via the savage, bloodthirsty grip of war
Ever damaging what deserved to be more.
Stuck in an overwhelming abyss of sadness, anguish
Indigenous to having the love of your life
Coldly and heartlessly taken from you,
Kidnapped love leading to
Never-ending numbness only to be broken through time
Ergo,
Silence is broken and
So a poem is born.
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"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness." - Robert Frost