Culture Free Verse Poetry

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Feeling strangely like cyanide
The killing of my digital self
I am afraid

So bold hours ago
I made lists
So I would do it properly

Not miss a thing
Kill everything
Insecticide myself

Yet here I am
I am still here
Here

and here
Both of us
Still here

Corporeal
Digitised
Is it murder?

Or suicide?

© 2015 Melinda Irvine

the killing of they digital self

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