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Existentialism
Awakened from a deep slumber
A burning hunger in her mind
Stumbling,
half asleep
out of her empty bed
Without fear of waking anyone
For there is no one besides her to wake
Sluggishly
down
creaky wooden stairs
Surrounded
By an eerie feeling of loneliness
she’s quite familiar with
Arthritic hands grip the knob
With a flick of a wrist
Darkness swallows her
Holding her head
She leans on the shaky porch railing
And wraps her wrinkled lips around
cancer,
bronchitis,
and relief,
all in one;
Reflects on life
wrong decisions made
lost relationships
and friends
And she realizes just how alone she is
Just one old friend left
She lifts her head,
sees him
still smiling back
“Goodnight my friend, goodnight man on the moon.”
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