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Dec 2016
weakness
is an anchor tied
to the air in my lungs.
anger
is the scars and scabs
on my knees—
blue and purple and
melancholy.
fear
is the ghost
in the depths of my
shadow. he
leaves no room
for the sun.
sadness
is the curve
of my spine, the
bruise on my chest,
the shaking shaking
shaking of my hands,
the stars i pin up
each night
and the moon
lingering in the
sky through morning,
never swallowed by
daylight.
(g.c.) 12/17/16
gillian chapman
Written by
gillian chapman  21/F/toronto
(21/F/toronto)   
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