Wet Socks

It was a wet tingly sensation
above my ankles while my hysteria
beared down on my chest

at the end, my superficial cool
and skin level fly curtly
packed away and left

when my demons showed;
my toes swished around
in years of undisclosed hurt

preparing themselves eagerly
to hunt me down and
lay my bones under dirt

inconspicuously in despair
I waived my socks barely above
the window guard in distress

impassively I wait for
either the end or for a savior
from this perpetual mess

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