boy turns into a man

sometimes this heart feels lonely

like an open sea,

the winds of the south,

lingering, turbulent,

a wave of undesired thoughts

 

the dashes,

the echoes of an unanswered questions

with a broken pen and an empty ink pot,

a razor slits through the mirror

and bleeds a young man’s face

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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