barefoot,
into the cold morning grass,
relieved to have made it through,
another night.
The pale air strikes my senses,
and I let it fill me,
like pure water pouring into,
an old cracked vase.
A sigh escapes, as thoughts jumble up,
of what I'm doing out here,
in the cold.
Frustrated, I brush them down,
stroking my disrupted conscience,
telling it,
I will be okay.
I just don't want to spend,
another night,
in that dusty old house,
so full of stagnant memories.
Spoiler! :
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