lacerated (poem #25)

In the silent morning, a violent cry

rises grim,

pain of having to live.

From now on, everything here is a snowstorm over Los Angeles.

You have a good heart, suffer for it.

A sort of perfection that cannot read attacks.

The simple words of Forever exist meaningless.

A new pain will never do harm.

It will be a contradiction.

A rare expression.

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