Ninety-Seven Days

Ninety-seven walk through glue days. In a row. Soul rubbed raw. For better or worse, the inside of everything is showing now.

Ninety-seven walk through glue days.
In a row.
Soul rubbed raw.

For better or worse, the inside of everything is showing now.

My eyes are dust. The harshest images
defy tears.
I cry only from that which is tender.

Too much of this. Not
Enough of that.

Half my heart is severed.
And half soars towards redemption.

Finally.

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