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Some stories were never meant for soft tones

on moist lips

some are made for blistered throats

and calloused feet

that have walked too long

in the world you own

and call our home

~

our legs carry the ache

of too much shaping

molded and folded

to fit into your pocket

let out when you needed a blow

~

like a tissue

we are delicate

thinned out

torn

creatures cast out into the wind

searching for a surface

to take us in

~

this is a story so loud it cracks bones

and leaves lips a bloody mess

~

it is a story of how

we always try out best

to be you wife

your mother

your daughter

and your friend

~

your dirty little minx

cracking whips to no end….

-Volumes

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