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I’m not flashy
I’m broken in pieces
Buried and lost
Buried and found
By the softbodied me
On a crowded beach
With no relevance
Aside from being a part of my whole life

My words are not flashy.
They are broken
but they are mine.

Noises in the wall
Like chatter
Or the clatter of chains

It wasn’t haunted before I forgot garbage day
Once then twice
The wall absorbed the trash
There are things I would rather not see
Things I left to rot

It’s doing its best
Salvaging the broken and discarded
Whoever is in the walls, making do with my junk,
Must be paying penance
For a word alone

SOB with me

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