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Jan 25
I have old habits,
Patterns that hold me back.

Its as if I'm wondering the same halls,
Looking for a way out,
Frantically searching for the door I pray exists.

The door that will release me,
Let me end the habits that plague me.

My feet ache from searching,
My eyes are heavy,
My body exhausted from guilt.

And at the end of every day,
I lay in the hallway and pray, Pray that tomorrow I find the door.
First poem on here :)
Written by
Wyatt  21/Transmasculine/US
(21/Transmasculine/US)   
26
 
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