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Delicious tiny kernels of relief among a deluge of sadness.
Evil is contemplated for the first time. I am. It is. We are.
Politeness pushes isolation. Have nothing nice to say.
Rolling over and over messages of defeat in a heavy gravity.
Eating my sadness–large sugar plums of detest, despair, and disease,
Sun rises and sets on the problem–me, still in bed, covered, numb.
Saying nothing. Prayers fall on a dead god’s sow ear.
I am nothing, I long for oblivion. I sanitize meaning.
Once upon a time, fairy tales break as I sit slipperless–mouth filled with poisoned apple.
No end in sight–until it ends.

If you like this piece, I hope you decide to sponsor it at the Tupelo Press and Teen Creative Writing Center 30/30 Poetry Fundraiser https://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/. Every little bit counts. And, thank you for your time, attention, and support!

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