So easily we lose track of
how we could let go.
We hold sad terrible things to our chest.
We chant under our breath 'This is mine this is mine this is mine' .
We tell ourselves wordless stories that are not in time
We chant under our breath 'This is mine this is mine this is mine' .
We tell ourselves wordless stories that are not in time
and have no sounds.
We say 'These things happened to me. They are mine.
We say 'These things happened to me. They are mine.
I shall not forgive and I will hold them tight forever.'
We think this matters to anyone at all. It doesn't .
It doesn't pay back bad people nor does it arraign the good.
It simply ties us in place , with our own fretful acquiescence.
It simply blocks out the warm light of the innocent new day.
We think this matters to anyone at all. It doesn't .
It doesn't pay back bad people nor does it arraign the good.
It simply ties us in place , with our own fretful acquiescence.
It simply blocks out the warm light of the innocent new day.
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