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Karisa Brown Mar 2018
What she wonders
What is it now
What do you want from me
You grovel at my feet
Hoping to be fed
I have no more to give you
Last night's bread
was all there was

These orphan lots
Set beneath me
Spend nights awaking
the dead things
That I sleep in

They crawl beneathe my veins
Hidden in shame
I drown thee
With perfect obligatory
With knives
Held captive
And needle poked in eyes thread

These words become jummbled
So I throw them up instead
Melt me many men
Have them come in
Shake off their grievances
Give thanks for what's been

Wonder if you might
You might just
Give them a fright

— The End —