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Maker of Demise


A day doesn't pass without a memory of you,

Some be somber, most are blue.

When the sun appears, it's a new day,

But it ends the same way.

I call you up, ask you how you've been.

A one way conversation with no end.

Just a screen and myself,

No voice left to spread.

I try to think of what you might say,

Call yourself the angel of death,

Tell me that I am wandering astray.

I'd ask you to take one more breath,

Say that was never the plan,

God only provided a small lifespan.

Your remembrance is on the horizon,

Weighing options to fight, flight or freeze.

This year I take flight.

Making memories where trauma lays.

Marking three years the same way,

Hand-in-hand with alcohol and fear.

I've become dependent on substance,

Numbing the memories that once laid.

I write to forget, not to remember,

Pen to paper, whirling a life I never knew.

Attempt to erase what happened,

Remembering is nothing new.

I harbour the maker of your demise,

Trading a bandage for a badge,

Both heroes in disguise.

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