Pushing through the ground beneath my feet,
crushing, increasing gravity.
Until my bones bend,
I fold to fit what's left.
Poked holes to breathe;
a forgotten pet.
Beneath a damning sky,
that sits accusingly,
and scoffs as I begin to form the perfect "V."
And with my ribs pulled tight, they become the strings
to make a human harp that's out of tune
and the forces that be, rejoice.
Rejoice, they want my misery.
It means nothing, caused by nothing.
They'll find my teeth in the rocks.
Just stay, and give the best parts of yourself.
When it's done, will there be anything else.
When the scraps are dropped and we start rationing,
I worry that I'll lose the thrill of what I need.
So my rest starts to weigh in on me.
and what brought me peace
reflects the bending inside me.
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