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cv Apr 2015
i giggle at a friend's joke
and wave goodbye to them.
i walk by the streets, kicking rocks
and thinking of dumb old things.

i open the door to the house,
and i am almost used to the sharp, berating voices inside.

i shut them out,
and lay exhausted on my bed.

putting an arm over my eyes,
i rest.

and wake up to them,
looking at me with horrified eyes.
my room is a mess--
a beheaded stuffed bear,
broken ceramics,
crushed scissors,
a butcher knife in my hand,
and warm, crimson fluid streaming down my arm.

what happened, i wonder?
so tired.

— The End —