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Rubbing roughly 
Against fractured rocks
Turning and contorting in 
Dark dank soil
Brushing over brittle bark:
Tumbling over tangles of 
Fallen dead discarded branches
No hands to use to free myself, 
Vulnerable in this transmutation…
Knowing exactly how it feels 
To pull yourself out of your own skin
Only to begin the cycle
All over again

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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