I am a raw nerve,
exposed to the elements.
I am a crushed seed,
a heart cramping,
a scream caught in a throat
A crab with no shell
clinging desperately to a rock,
battered by a sullen sea.

I am a bucket,
pierced by a thousand arrows.
Barely contained,
I spill myself uselessly
about this place and that
and I’m mopped with a pitiful glance,
Don’t mind her, she’s broken.
She does that.

I won’t be loved.

I make origami of me.
Fold myself over and over
’til I’m infinitesimal, ’til I could slip
through a crack
in the floorboards.
I reduce myself
to a speck of dust
and dream of becoming an atom.

I am a swan
with a broken neck flopping,
lost to grace-
still paddling maniacally,
like some hellish miracle.
I could care less,
but I’ll never know how.
I am a relic
from another dimension-
I cannot breathe this atmosphere.


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art of trauma
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