IDENTITY
|
NANCY DEDMAN
| Pastel, Pencil, Pen
NEVER AGAIN helena Perez-Stark Today I cut apart the crude stitches Which had sewn our hands together And I discovered we were rotting. The stink of flesh that longed to slough off And bone which wanted to be exposed Was eminent. We snipped away all the bad bits And left only what was clean So we saw we were not whole.
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