Poetry of sorts

Get Out

(Just because the title space is used)

Cutting away at the ties that bind,

While the winter's chill sets in.

Wishing a stranger's hand could find

mine, pulling me in

to the warmth and safety of the circle of their arms.

Keeping me free from the world's dark harms

bid on me by those I thought

might once have been a dearest friend,

but now I see that all they wrought

was the pain and destruction; bring the end

to this ache inside, this uncertain feeling.

Leave me alone. Get out. I need healing.

The End

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