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Christopher Bales
Poems
May 2012
Don't Read This, Mother.
No one knows how
to remind me that I’m
worthless quite like you,
mom.
No one knows how
to open old wounds and
pour them out on the kitchen
table for the world to see,
quite like you, mom.
And no one knows how
to remind me why I didn’t
want to live for the longest
time, quite like you, mom.
We may love each other,
but our immediate relationship
is just as caustic as Triflic acid,
and
you’re burning holes in my head,
you’re burning holes in my heart,
you’re burning holes in my soul,
but
It’s only day one and, already,
I can’t take much more of this.
Written by
Christopher Bales
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