Untitled 51

You see her face and every wound is torn open

Each memory memory dredged up

Like silt from a stagnant pond,

And through a cloud of settling ash

The odd hot ember jumps out

To scold you for mistakes you never made.

No, you know what, I take that back.

It feels like a man with an iron boot

Is kicking you in your gut

Over and over again.

And you deserve every single blow

For each mistake you chose to make

And each chance you’ll never know.


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