Contributor: Ben Riddle

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how easily the lies come;
flowing from my mouth like a river
to overcome all obstacles,
to sweep away the dry truth
with poetic fiction.

the words mix together
like raindrops and sewer water,
until I forget what came first
or why that mattered,
if it does at all.

I forget all things except
the rush of power,
the roar of waves;
losing myself
in my own creations;

I don’t know what’s real any more.


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Aspiring writer, athlete and dreamer out of Perth, Western Australia.