Wrist watch

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I lay on my back ,

Half today , half shadow-lands

A tiny man appeared on my wrist.

He dug at the veins with purpose, as he would a field

His tiny brow furrowed, his miniature overalls covered in blood.

What was he searching for ?

Every pick of his perfect axe

Was in time with my beating heart

And the tiny sway of my hairs

Were like corn in the breeze.

I could smell rain in the air and sighed.

As tears ran down my cheeks.

He looked up and stopped

‘There’s a storm coming.’ He whispered.

To me? To  the sky?

‘There’s a storm coming and you are going to die.’

(c) Slumpless

 

 

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