Afternoons are long, desolate hours
Reminding of another failed attempt,
At preserving leftover memories, scattered
In the breeze, stark against the sunlight.
Like a noose tied around the neck,
Tight and unyielding, time flows slowly.
Yet again, an afternoon begins, repeating
Steadily the loss of today, until tonight
Weaves in again, finally putting to sleep
The mind that cries in despair, darkness prevails.
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Anna Palmer comes from a personal background of mental health, and learned at a young ag…
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