I would look a lot like an oil spill.
clouded with dark patches,
glimmering red in the sun.
I wish I could be serious with myself.
But I am an immediate joke.
I set myself up every time.
it's so easy to kill yourself.
when you hardly know yourself.
it's a lot like committing murder
with zero chance of consequence.
there is a blossoming,
and a wilting.
But me?
I have discovered the beauty of sleep.
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