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May 2019
Sometimes i feel like dropping
down to my knees and weeping,
my face pressed against
the dirt and fresh cut grass.
but
something keeps pulling me up,
up until my feet dangle
just above the lawn and i
hang there like a newborn child,
limp and blind in my mother’s jaw.

I live only to forget. And spend too much time remembering.
Remembering the moments before my eyes opened
to lights counterpart. before my voice ached to be heard
by the men without ears. what is thought is never heard
and what is said is often misunderstood.

anxious hands and tired eyes.
The earth was spinning a million miles an hour and then in an instance it stood still, one soul lighter.

my eyes  up like a truck-stop burning. my eyes light up like
an ambulance on fire.
we throw rocks at the ant hill in the yard
we whisper promises to a moon lit sky.

if heaven is above, this must be hell
if heaven is above, this must be hell.
bron
Written by
bron  19/M
(19/M)   
151
   ---, --- and Fawn
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