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Black sunflower pedals ooze from my mother’s case,

Winds sweep me off my feet,
I can see a body un-moved

Suddenly I know what I want to be.

Sticky fingers smooth back flaky dead skin,
Printers hum and hard drives say they can’t go back

R.O.S.S. likes me better,
When I’m black and blue all over,
I feel better when called the optimistic failure.  

You’ve mistaken
That’s not a heart on my sleeve

I really want to say . . . it’s just another absentee.
But the mirror’s eyes say please.

Saving a new lie for a sunny day
There’s a song being un-danced to.

I cant seem to find a thing .
©2008 ~2022
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Submitted: May 11
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Author's Comments

i want rice cakes!

i like the chocolate and the cheese ones.

i cant get them out of my head!
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