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Upon sixteen I saw,
headdress adorned the wound,
a means to an end.

On this cold summer, five anew,
should my heart freeze over,
the winter would thaw.

Past selves so afraid,
of what it meant to doubt.
What it meant to toil.

Regurgitate the loss,
keep adolescence in wait,
with a faith to believe.

I gather the bones,
for life is to chew,
with a new set of teeth.

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Comments

Michael Kalin

happy birthday! hauntingly beautiful poem. you should write more.