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i hold on to everything.
a letter, a wing, the newspaper clipping reading “Saviour’s Day” i found in the grass in virginia.
pinned to the wall, taped in a journal. collecting weapons for a war that’s always coming.
there will always be something else to kill.
did you feel it, when i picked the skin from my lips?
did it hurt you? it always should, and it never will.
it’s not my problem now. i’m perfect, and powder white. i’m the barn owl, awake at night.
i cry only if i want to, just because it feels good.
the sun rises and healthily i close my eyes.
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- 1 year ago
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