New poem: Library Prompt V
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Library Prompt V
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2024-04-22
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***
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Under occlusive skies better left unnamed
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I toss and turn in bed, wracked with the pain
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of reminder that elsewhere in the state
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someone still towards me holds illest will,
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thinks less of their memory of me
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than perfection's divinity.
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I try
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to remind
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myself less as a salve
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than a desperate attempt to keep myself calm:
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the body takes seven years to recycle its cells,
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meaning no part of me experienced their hell
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and for what I did am no longer responsible;
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when I left, I made the cleanest break possible,
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and if they haven't changed that yet I doubt they ever will.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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