that drowning feeling

 swirling unspecified in
 the middle of a chaos poured
 from pitchers of deep rain
 cannons firing across the
 still december mourning for
 a lost adulthood framed by
 a little used childhood endeavor
 just brings sorrow what if i can't
 do it what if i'm not
 enough what if i
 what if
 
 what

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