August

She wished it to be a month of hope,

Not that of despair, or distress

Her days blurred in nothingness

Like a bird fallen in a trench, flapping its wings

Move, run, walk, read, write, stop!

Her body powerless, prisoned by her mind

Reduced to a mute spectator,

For her mind has a mind of its own

She dallies her day away

Eager for her sleep

No dreams, ...

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