to
find yr. new thres
ss
s
sho
ld
of pain, you dial
a quiet rotary phone
and it begins
w/ the simple strains and chords
of a love song
shortly after yr. hands and knees
fall to the floor
yr. eyes, bloodshot
and wild
yr. eyes
fog with tears
and yr. mouth opens
a scream slowly crawls out
sleepy and tired of this abuse
this game, this constant game
yr. body loses it's connection
but the pain
never leaves
it haunts you down every avenue
>
you run down
every room you lock yr.self
into
it's not without remorse
this spector of childhood trauma
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