Shaky
It was but a crack
To grow up through me
My knees, hands, chest, and height
I crack and groan through the winters night
Like grated sand these cracks, they pile
Firm, unlike before
Though it feels more solid
Its a sand soaked in tears
Still, I slide and stumble
Even in pieces, I amount to more
Copyright © Jakob Towell | Year Posted 2019
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