Whispered Interrogation
dank heralds
intrigue questions
that tangle on my tongue
in one of the disorders i have,
1 in 10 people commit suicide.
i think of graphic deaths longingly
wistfully praying
there are no more yesterdays
and no more tomorrows.
precious child,
why do you live in nocturnal heavens
and wakeful hells?
beautiful child,
on the eve of adulthood,
have you so soon lost the lust for life?
what has happened to the fighter
that once shone in your eyes?
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