Trauma

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The master of fragility
will win the masters’ war

requiring agility
the masters would ignore

but

another desister collapsed
and my sister relapsed

I’ll die

as soon as I can cry

that’s a lie
or bait

Hold the frozen hand of fate

thawed too late
goodbye

I’m alive but
conquered

lost my mind to empty verse
in a song that’s slow but terse

what’s worse

is without a mind I maim
my surplus body to reclaim

something I can name and shame
instead of what’s been squandered

What if I can’t feel a thing
when I accommodate the King?

nor remember
how November

resurrects my mother’s curse?

 

 

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