Enervated
Something’s under my skin
Afflicting my every breath
I might lose this conflict
Maybe if I
Open a window of new breezes
Rattling in my attenuate conscious
So now I am
Feverously irascible
At the only creator of myself
The path was lined with nails and pieces of glass
And I collect them along the way
And spit them far from my heart
Because I’m run out of origin
I am standing in a puddle
Nearly empty
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2009
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