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Apr 2021
oxygen
as the cord
wrapped tightly around her neck
like a python. She, a girl
was not pink. She came out
blue from the beginning.

She lost her
core
after her mother plucked
her petals
falling to the floor
swept up
with the dust
like a piece of furniture

She lost her
softness
after she was pounded
as a pillow
all the goose feathers
flying in the air
the stuffing knocked out
of her
like the Thanksgiving turkey
minus the gravy

She lost her
father
to schizophrenia
at age two
he to woman,
gambling
and *****

She lost her
stuffed rabbit
she had a habit
of leaving things
behind
like friends
and jobs
and memories

she blocked out
no shade of blackness
light only makes things grey
sandra wyllie
Written by
sandra wyllie  56/F
(56/F)   
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