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Jun 2015
How do I cleave through the ice in my bones?
How do I feel when the feeling's unknown?
Something so lost and forlorn it has grown
into myth and lore, fairytales and adventures
the only map or way back
Frost on fuschia petals in the middle of summer
and an endless monochrome beach,
gray and gray, night and day I roam miles, but
I've gone the wrong way
Violets in wonderland, never escape
Running so fast but my limbs are like sand and I'm drowning
Hands are withering leaves instead of
parts that speak when my mouth can't
All this time I thought I was moving forward, but I was
just a **** tearing myself away
from a shriveled patch of beach grass
Swept away by the wind till I browned, born to die
The wildflower that wanted to fly
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