Moribund, I am…

by

Emotions, they flow,
freely in and out,
of this wretched soul of mine,
with each ebb of the tide,
it washes away a crumb of my heart,
little by little,
becoming evermore brittle,
My heart has been,
strife with doubt,
as the passions die,
within this shell,
a mere husk of what it was,
once so full of life and vitalis,
now deplete,
and moribund.

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