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WEARY



weary with


the


momentum

of generations

woven into me


my mother stands on

my grandmother’s shoulders -

I stand on my mother’s grave,


reclaiming the memories of

my youth -


cartwheels on

Broken Glass

and

Steel Wool

on my

skin,


Grinding Teeth

that

shatter.


And I break my own heart

as I


drown naked

in ancestral decay,


my unquiet mind

put to rest

in a tomb of

Rose Petals

and Lead


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