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shedding sorrow's grasp
sequestered in a
somber sepulchre
where I relinquish
dead memories
and iced nightmares
upon resting ivy,
twisted
with rotting thistle
I'm no longer
able to breathe
pulverized pain
as I shed this
stitched-on hollow skin
resuscitation under
Jupiter's moon
Copyright ©
Sara Jama
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