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The past few days have been rough and so to cope, I wrote. I kept writing until I got through it all. This is a part of one of the poems from that process. It’s titled in full:
station eleven.
Hell is missing those you love most
But you can’t do anything about it
It’s gone
Those people you love
They’re gone
You’re alone
And you can’t get out
Hell is missing those people
And constantly wishing to hear the words they’d always say in bad times
They’re not there though
They’re just gone
They’ve been gone
The words, the memories, the love
It’s all gone