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I’m sure we all know
the pretty fiction
praised as prose
about sticks and stones
and brittle bones
but DON’T you DARE
tell me life is fair
or that a broken bone
hurts HALF as much
as a broken heart
or a soul so alone
that it’s torn apart
and separated from
its dying cask…



I’m hollow
left to wallow
in my sorrow
until tomorrow…



But tomorrow never comes.


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