Are you going to hurt yourself, he asks.
I say
no
I think I’ve done enough of that.
It’s so common
I know
but I hate knowing I’m unclean
and having to tell to confess:
I
who knows better
I
who should know better than anyone
I
who wanted to please a man so badly
I
who trusted when I had no reason to
I
who is ashamed
I
who is weak
I
who sleeps
I
who is incurable
I
who is my own terminal condition
I
who is without vaccine
I
who is that girl
I
who must die
3 comments
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May 20, 2009 at 5:30 pm
Utopian Fragments
i don’t know, somehow it made me smile.
May 20, 2009 at 11:13 pm
mariana
who by fire (L C)
May 21, 2009 at 9:48 am
poeticgrin
“I think I’ve done enough of that.”
Guilt, sadness, devastation –
this poem is anything but numb.