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"Thoughts from three in the morning."
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The hurt washes over like the ocean.
Calm sails capture the wind
With their chests puffed out,

Rulers of the great blue seas
Until a storm arrives
Of doubt and regret

The spray stings my cloudy eyes.
It seemed fun at the time
Becoming Co-captain of my own ship. 

A ship without compass,
But the anchor held steady,
A safety net in unknown depths.

Now worry eats at the wooden planks. 
No more anchor in these troubled waters. 

Washed away,
Floating aimless,
Grasping at ropes of air.

Empty as my secrets wash aboard
Pull me under
Secrets no more.

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