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Better to Forget.

Ignored it, suppose,
for far too long,
so ungrateful
of their reprieve,

as I mistook
it as reality.
They gave me,

always give ample
time to convince
myself they were all
just a bad dream.

Down on my back
against a cold table,
straining to look at my toes.

One hand reaches across
my chest to grab
the other arm
midway between
shoulder and elbow.

This could be my trigger,
just remember:
this could be my lucid
prompt.

No.

What do you see
just passed
your feet, at the end
of the bed? Forget
it, just fucking

forget it, forever
and always,
it much better to:

forget.

Grip loosens,
the hand lets go.

Abandoned again.

Keep ignoring it…

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