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Ethics

All too often I find that I keep you

Here.

 

I am the shackle of the revolutionary soul

The selfish platonic bond

An unhealthy chemical mixing always

with your chromosomes

 

You are the flower that

I picked up

And adored who became the object of my affection

 

In doing so

Elegantly ripped from the earth in which you prospered righteously

I killed you

 

I killed you so unknowingly

And if I could bring you back to life

The death of me; myself

That might bring you back to life

What will bring you back to life

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Written by
vassana-m
Published
Feb 4, 2014
Lines·Words
17·96
Notes

Should I let you go?

Permission

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