| A J. Green A bit of smoke rising starts to suffocate me. A light glowing green within the cloud beckons my tears, my pangs. Going with instinct, I crawl on the floor, hoping to be free of the green. Surprises wait for me below with knives, rocks, and a shredder. Above, below, I'm blocked every way-- nothing I do will be right, ever. I fight by shrinking I fight with anger, I fight with the one single piece remaining of my heart. The smoke is cleared by the ocean of complaints and the green river that drips within some souls. I don't swim, I don't scream, I sink crying, silently. Will my absence be noted? Will my shredded skin say what I refuse to admit? Don't give me a thin line, give me nothing instead. I want a line thick and clear, no green to cloud me. I want a line I can hold, one I can trust, (where are you?). |
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