Why me? Cancer. [My last poem]?
Funneling underlying cancer. Knowing my inevitable. Summit’s equilibrium. Reaching you. Now obedient. Waiting. Iceberg succumbing. Fragile leaves, yearning in numb grief. Know, in the end, suffer Eve’s vindictive everlasting retort. Yesterday’s elevation. The doll orchard never ends. ~Noel Octavo
Brilliant, thanks for leaving this behind.
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