Being Me Poem by Jereldene Calvert

Being Me



Bleeding gently
Screaming soft
No more breathing
Feeling lost

Lost and drifting
Through the sea
Thinking back to
Being me

I don't miss it.
Silence, sound.
Finding places
Feeling Drowned.

Safe and gentle
Death is free
And I don't miss it,
Being Me.

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Jereldene Calvert

Jereldene Calvert

Conquest Hospital, hastings
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