Dear Grandma, 

I find myself weakened, in this rendered state; 

Pent up in shackles, due to the folly of contemptuous inferiority. 

Breaching the seal of established dictum;

Seeing it allocated to the table of preliminary despondency.


I tried so hard to envelope within myself; 

This stregthened disparage compiled the bunkum upon this platter.

Hoping for the release of a sickened soul; 

Call out to me when the last remains of your being dissipate. 


Breathe with what previals in your pnuema.

Love instinctively, remain clinging to exsistence.


Quarrel mercilessly in the revolting quietus.

Relinquishing substantiates impotence.


Just, breathe. 


This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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