Mindsweep
I abandoned the desolation long ago
The place of triggers, ideations and compulsions
Where morning light carves the only hope in the grooves of those early years
Until I became an artist of my healed emotions that bled the colors of my perceptual canvas
But all that is abandoned can often return
Still hollow places can wither shiny days
The landscape of my psyche with its mines
Calls for the reformation of a new mind
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