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Month: November, 2017

To pick, to pick, to pick… 

One day I’ll tell you perhaps the way pain converts to fear deep inside of me. Some pains are too great, not worthy of the wound and disposable. A scab picked, prodded and thrown to the trash.

Some day, if pain permits, perhaps.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest. 

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Lost essence staining my mind. 

I am lost in a field of missed ‘curity 

Seconds pass in the spiking of my fantasy

and the death of my hand made reality

deep in the knowledge of my fantasy, 

Lost deep in the shadows of insecurity.
Karen Hayward ©2017

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