With tearful lips I bite and scream,
the eyes of mine are burning,
fire in a worn out stream,
bramble and brush, scratch
and tear at my knees.

I grasp the slim branch before my eyes,
laying innocently, tempting, teasing
with its sharp teeth and ragged nails,
begging me to walk straight into it,
it would end everything, the pain
of sight would fade to blood and
burning. I would be free.

It breaks the skin in my hand,
I snap it, leaving the wick branch
laying helplessly, it’s green bared
to the world, to be ravaged. There is no
pleasing, but I smile anyways, a small
private joke even I don’t understand.

I step away without Good-bye.


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