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May 2018
he embezzled thousands
of me
endlessly
dressed in no
skin
resembling
white sheep

the wolves insist
it’s not him
incessantly
investors with cheeks
pen checkered checks
and i bleed

their flushed flesh
left me
and for a full year
i sat and still weep
overfilled till deep
i pressed down on me
to let my heart beat
me free as those tears
i now let leak leaps

the shepherd believes
he breeds herds of meals
who tell him they teeth
on sights of him meek
i hear him repeat
this isn’t me

a bitter pill
is better sweet
reality
is bittersweet

perhaps i’m him
and he is me
and all along
the wolves
were sheep
absinthe
Written by
absinthe
171
   Manda Raye
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