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Doorstep
I am the door she ran through;
Broken, off the hinges, jammed in place
I lie on the floor that once brushed off my shoulders
Unable to move as I stare at the ceiling
Watching her walk away as she steps over me
For, I was just an obstacle for her to clear
Life's view is narrowed by my perspective
Looking for a quick pick me up
My dead weight is too heavy for the weak to lift
Easy has left me when difficult moved in
I need to fix my splints and oil my hinges
Copyright ©
Jaquay Atkins
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