Poem #4

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She doesn't believe,
my anxieties have swallowed me.
"Insecurities"
is what she calls them.

It's him I'm scared of,
for love is not a dove.
It will never bring me peace,
among an olive branch to meet.

I begin to loose her,
and her words start to slur.
I begin to loose him,
and my reality goes dim.

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