By Sheila Mumbo
Finding myself dead on the floor,
Withered like a plucked petal,
Hands shaking and head spinning,
I can hear my voice from afar,
My heart keeps swelling,
With swirling pools of emotions,
In this mountain of inner turmoil,
Swirling waves of reaction with vigour,
I wish I had the strength to resist this,
I don’t want to die in an explosion,
But I’m slowly annihilating myself,
Tell me is this the end of me?
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