Life
pecks at me
often,
drumming
on the skin
of my spirit,
sucking
my sap,
boring holes
that cannot
be filled,
or hidden
from the
glare of day,
reminders
of what needs to die
so I can begin
to truly live.
pecks at me
often,
drumming
on the skin
of my spirit,
sucking
my sap,
boring holes
that cannot
be filled,
or hidden
from the
glare of day,
reminders
of what needs to die
so I can begin
to truly live.
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