Isolation,
At times
It seems,
Wraps
Your being
Stifles
Your dreams
Cotton stuffin spills
From the pillows
On which u rested

Embittered by delusion
U lose sense of direction

But as a gray wind blows
You clutch your chest
Yellow embers ignite
Indigestion
Your test
And u may cry out to heavens,
Goddess
What is it
That I need?
And she answers
In all earnest

“U must seek the keys
To your Green…. “

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