Ink

they want to

pick the stars from my eyes

and hold them tightly in closed fists to capture its shine

they want to take the bounce from my step

anchor it within the red-rustic chains of despair

they want to drain my happiness like a broken glass

and use its shards to etch the patterns of my demise

They want to steal my breath away

and leave a corpse that will not use the air
Curse the soles of my feet that step to make a print
I only meant to reach my goals and never

meant to waste the

ink

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