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cagepoems · 3 years
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A heart made of stone
Scorched earth, no sun to be seen.
And yet you grow here.
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cagepoems · 4 years
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Walking the same streets.
My neck hurts,
Always looking down
For bumps in the road
(Whether they are there or not.)
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She stumbles, stumbles, stumbles
Because there is so much to see,
And none of it is at her feet
(Yet.)
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cagepoems · 4 years
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We are what we eat,
And I am still looking
For that which poisoned me.
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cagepoems · 4 years
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Moss grows up my legs,
And I can’t tell
If it is holding me back,
Coaxing me to take root,
Or if there is any difference
Between the two.
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cagepoems · 4 years
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I turn out your pockets
Full of wilting flowers,
And I am gladly one of them.
Press and preserve me
In your favorite book,
And smell sunlight
When you turn the pages.
Let this never end.
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