I feel snagged, Like a burr on a sweater, Buried in wool. Suffocating. But exposed to the cold All the same. Destined to stay stuck Where I don’t belong, Watching the world pass, Just out of reach.
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I feel snagged, Like a burr on a sweater, Buried in wool. Suffocating. But exposed to the cold All the same. Destined to stay stuck Where I don’t belong, Watching the world pass, Just out of reach.
All rights reserved © 2025 Josephine Joyil
I would've enjoyed this life more, If I'd done it all, When I was a bit older. "Foolish child, Don't you know that to grow is to live?" No. For there are no living pains, Only growing pains. "What has stopped growing, is dead." And what has stopped dying, Wont grow.
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If I succumb now It’ll prove something about the world That I don’t want to be true, That I won’t wish into truth. So I stay kicking, Against the tangled sea weed Pulling me down By the ankles To the ocean floor. I keep my face Above the broken surface Knowing that my legs, Human and weak, Must fail me eventually, And that my breath Won’t hold out forever And that I must keep fighting for another second And then another more For if I succumb now I will never see light again.
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And warm, Who makes you feel safe, And realize, That you’re not quite as patient As you should be, And fills you with guilt, For your wrongs, In a way That only the innocent can.
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Just by willing it, And refusing to accept “no” As the final answer. Keep digging, And once you hit the molten core, And your shovel melts, Let yourself melt with it, And become part of something bigger. Or cease to be. Either way, you haven’t settled for “no.”
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The anger protects you. So you’re reluctant to let it go. Stay angry, if you dare. Or let down that shield, And let fear take a stab. What have you to lose? Pride? Ha! That thin film that clings to your face, Stopping breath. Just stop.
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Here for you today, But not for you, For you, Unlike it, Aren’t forever.
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Perhaps you shouldn’t be talking to so many big kids. But you spoke, Talked in circles Keep spinning, kid. Coaxing the eye of the beholder to focus on all that’s beautiful, And only that. Or misstep And lose limb and life. You’re already dead anyway. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it.
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Supported by the air, With no ground beneath me, Flying like it’s my birthright. I wonder how badly it’ll hurt, When the breeze stills, And the ground I’ve learned to ignore, Catches my fragile form.
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Fanged tooth girl, That they call Red, Not so little, When you loomed over Wolf. Will you be wearing his fur, As you wait for the huntsman? That chivalrous fool, Who thinks you need rescuing.
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