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tired.

and i'm the
one in the middle, with
short hair and a small face
and other unproportional things
people sometimes call 'features'.

i'm so tired


of looking at myself
in the mirror, and trying to see
some good

or

leaning against my chair
wondering what the hell is wrong with me
at one a.m.



i am tired. tired. tired.

of looking into holes
and finding things inside that i
never wanted to find out

or reaching inside
and so afraid of something biting
or tearing away my hand

or just not knowing anything.


god.
someone shine that flashlight already.

Author notes

this stinks.

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Comments

  • tara wilson gold member
    February 10
    Edit | Reply
    the flashlight is such a wonderful & powerful layer to bring into this poem at the end, this doesn't stink.


  • tara wilson gold member
    February 10

    Edit | Reply
    the flashlight is such a wonderful & powerful layer to bring into this poem at the end, this doesn't stink.