By Adelle Sepulveda
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Days pass and I am still home
There are voices in the next room, yet I am all alone
Desolate, a disfigurement
Too many thoughts, therefore I cannot think
Instead, I shrink
I become one with the mattress; it embalms me
Like a corpse in a coffin, I loathe
I look upon it- a velvet so dark like cherry
Let me decompose
It is time to rot away in the flesh
Grow a garden on me, and make sure they stay fresh
Let me enjoy them for a time, for they give me brief company
But just as me, and Adam and Eve, my ancestors before me, they wilt and rot
Because that is how one goes
Daunting, it is not
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