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Sep 2021
tucked in my tire. I drove for miles
with you pushing your barb through
my ribs. ******* air out of my
treads. Now I’m flat as unleavened bread.

You were the pebble
stuck in my shoe, cutting into me
with every step I took. You found
a nook to set up shop. I couldn't
walk without you digging into the *****,
making it swollen and red. Ripping it
to shreds like two cats fighting on the bed.

You were the splinter
that snuck in my hand. You landed as an airplane
under the skin and infected me. Lumpy
and itchy as poison ivy. A rash that can’t subside.  I ooze
like a pimple poked in the middle covering my face
like the tide.
sandra wyllie
Written by
sandra wyllie  56/F
(56/F)   
143
   Thomas W Case
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