Day 24 of 30


and they
dont understand
dont make no sense to them
how shine stick on us
and we stick on shine
how we seem to
care more and more and
care less and less
how our torsos be tinted plexi
casing strobing spirits
how our mouths be both
artwork and arsenal
how our limbs be spring-loaded
and our necks be
blocks of cement
and our tears gather
like sunday dinner
in clapboard houses
both eating us
and keeping us
dont make no sense
no damn sense
to them


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