Grave Digger

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Fickle,

Like a flame

I die

With the wind.

Reborn again,

Against your skin.

 

Fainter,

Fading,

Struggling

To get in –

 

Leave a mark,

A memory

That won’t fade,

An imprint

On your brain,

A stubborn stain,

A cut –

Deep enough

To remain.

 

The Present

was never enough

But my future

was always bleak.

 

And you were always

Going to leave

Me with the wolves,

The demons I made,

The darkness in my brain.

The grave

I dug for myself.

 

Illustrated by Sambita Modak

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