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No More Echoes.
Two mental breakdowns
In as many years;
The ECT, she
Knows too well; the dark
Corridors; the sharp
Broken mirrors, all
Reflecting different
Selves; the slashed wrist;
Bath-almost-drowning
Business; the white
Coated nurse and docs
And the tricks up their
Long thin sleeves; and the
Emptiness inside
With the long slow fall
Into that so long
Awaited and wished for
Oblivion and
No more echoes from
The sad ghostly dead.
poem
by
Terry Collett
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