Barefoot I’d walk
On needles
With burning feet and
You’d look at the
Paleness of my hand
And conclude that

I’m fine.

My eyes scarred
By tears that bleed
With a shameful grace
You’d look at the
Silly curve on my glowing face
And assume that

I’m fine.

Burning my heart
Ashes in my veins
Beating unheard
and you, you’d make love
To my eloquent words
And know that

I’m fine.

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