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drowned to life


september night, hours frozen i

drown my reflection in a lake

without rippling the black surface

for i have run out of escapes.

my reflection floats into a curse with

no human heart weighing it down. the

face of a mannequin

disappears as soon as i blink.

my skin peels off in liquid dreams.

step into the void, and i knew i had

drowned the wrong reflection but i

have run out of escapees.

i fold into the lake, the underside

of my conscience is scraped.

shredded lungs, spilling cold ink

but i am breathing for the first


the waters were knocked-over pallets

stolen paints from northern skies.

open my throat, dishevel in silence i

run out of escapes and into life.

my body casts no shadow in the water

for the lake held hostage, tightly the

color of your colorless eyes and i am

drowning without metaphor.

The 2am writer that lives in the mind of sixteen-year-old Yun-Fei Wang has been taking over her sanity for a few years now, tearing her lifeline down, yet building up an escapism in the same breath. Find her in the evanescence of black-inked words, or at @rainofelsewhere on Instagram.

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