when you’re a kid: A Poem

when you're a kid
you don't mind
if the colors don't match

a quilted blanket 
of mix-matched squares
is as beautiful as 
Egyptian silk
so long as it's soft 

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unique: A Poem

 you weren’t born broken like the rest of us
 you weren’t even made broken
 you’re just you 
 bitten off whole
 from your mother’s broken womb
 we are all made who we are by our mothers
 either because of them
 or in spite of them
 but you came out whole
 and you picked up her pieces
 even though it wasn’t your job
 and no one expected it
 now I’m yours
 and you fill in all the missing pieces
 but I don’t want you to fix me
 you’ve already done that enough
 now it’s your turn
 to be the taker
 I need to fix myself
 so I can give my all to you 

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rereading: A Poem

 rereading what I write
 is like reading the words of a stranger
 I don’t know her
 I am her
 I am who am
 the god of my brain
 with no self-control
 and it makes the acids in my stomach sour
 the back of my mouth closes
 it’s hard to swallow
 labored breathing
 labor pains
 as I realize who I am
 my chest swells
 too tight
 I am drowning
 in blankets
 I can’t swallow
 breathe in
 not enough comes out
 acid burns
 like tiny tidal waves
 over dead
 how could I have ever felt this way?
 I don’t understand people
 who feel the need to find themselves
 who am I?
 I’ve always known
 never looked 
 I don’t know
 how did I ever feel
 the way I felt yesterday?
 how did I ever feel
 the way I felt tomorrow?
 could I ever have been
 so sad
 when I feel so happy now?
 but that happiness
 is really relief
 I better believe it now
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