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The Safety of Nostalgia
As I drift into the meadow of frost
My soul slowly slips away
I am turned into ice
and my mind has been ceased.
I can no longer process the world I view
Only can I see it
Hear it
As the world really is
The vibrant colors have disappeared
The zealous hummingbirds evaporate
No more laughter surrounding my being
Only frost.
The dark hues consume my sight
Until everything is merely a blur
I tumble over large objects
And fall into a cold lake
My bones ache
And I am parched
For the water here is undrinkable
My eyes feel as though they are frozen
All hope seems to have been sucked from my soul
Like nectar from a honey suckle
Oh how I long for just one more taste
A taste of that sweet flower
What is this?
Has my thought been heard?
A thought? Have I been ripped from the fog?
I notice a small yellow blur on the ground
As my vision clears
I bring this oddly shaped object to my nose
And breath in the sweet aroma of happiness
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