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Survivor
I don't want to be a survivor, I don't want to be brave
I don't want to be stronger, I don't want to be saved
I don't want to be tested to see if I'll do it right
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Slaughter Day — Nov. 6
I didn’t get out of bed this morning for twenty minutes
Lying in the dark in hopeful ignorance
Then I see my mother in the hall and I’m six years old again —
She has bad news —
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A Collection of Short Poems
I Wish You Never Hurt Me
When we first met
I had no idea
You would become so important to me
Yet now I find myself
Wishing we never met
Now I’m forced to remember you
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Bigger Windows
Collect the raindrops left scattered on the ground, cut the dying trees before they die. Live with your hands until you die in your mind.
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