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Poetry

Beloved

I come to you with my karmic pain
bunched and bundled in tight little rolls
let it be said when this story be told
at least I burdened what’s left of me.

The noise in my head, the pulses I feel
come to me in quick pressing droves
I need you now like the air that I breathe
the air is you that is left in me.

Do not be afraid of this manic phase
this place that tears and brings up rage
let it be said that I came to you
to release me from all my feverish foes.

All rights reserved @Osupa 2014

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