Wilted

I am the one who will be deserted, from the group. Betrayed left with nothing to lose. No possessions acquired, only my mind and my one wilted flower. Beauty in horrible fazes, negative places for this morning. A night where I will be running away from the demons in my dreams, a conclusion a conscious sewn with the black seams. I am the poison the cure the only mind that can infer my thoughts.

poem by Joshua Vesofen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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