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Ricardo Sexton


The water is his own. Yes, he’s lost at sea
Drowning in emotion/guess, juggling a be
Gasp for a breath of air, for a lasting stare
Swallowing dreams and the bare screams

Dark vibrations ripples forward & convey
“The gift” and suddenly belief drifts away
Doubt invaded his mind. Fear is so hollow
Left behind… the thoughts grows shallow

The pain leaks, as an ocean remains deep
It overwhelms, so he welcomes these sips
Waves of hope rises to crash on ‘wet eyes’
Cope evaporates, the water claims its prize

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