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Illustration by @luciesalgado
Dear, have you ever been there?
That fine line between hope and despair.
That place you go when you run out of ink.
No? Let me tell you, I call it The Brink.
Far away, at the farthest end of Earth,
Where all is devoid of faith and mirth,
There stands an enormous precipice.
A dark place that screams of peace.
The sky has a tint of dying grey.
Wind screeches like a bird of prey.
Do you not hear the snakes? They hiss.
No. Not there. Down here. From the abyss.
Once you are wrapped by the cloudy mist,
There's no return, put down your cyst.
Fall with me into the depths in a wink.
We shall get lost in the shadows of The Brink.
47 Launches
Part of the Poetry collection
Updated on April 25, 2021
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