Bite your lip
words are overflowing
over the brim of your mouth
Tears
are running from your tongue
And the scars on the inside of your
eyelids
clench your fists into a promise
Of being
Of walking without a direction
And silently grasping
at laughter
around corners.
Disposable sets of wings
that moan themselves into a mangled perfection
a heap of feathers
on the floor
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