Snuffed

A thought supposed constant extinguished by time.

The wick black and no longer exposed to oxygen.

No longer able to breathe.

The coffin containing imaginings of what could be

reluctantly closed and buried.

A wooden edge still creeping out from beneath dark soil

hinting at hope

begging to be grasped.

A wail choked by years of useless turmoil

never to be answered.

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One thought on “Snuffed

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