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Steam

For what I thought was fog,

Clouding my mind with doubts,

Was really steam,

Pressuring me to believe,

That I can hold,

More than I could,

Until it warned me,

That I'm going to burst,

At my seams any moment.

If I don't let go,

Of the edges,

That are hurting,

More than protecting me,

From the steam,

That disguised as fog.




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