I thought I had posted this as an inclusion with one of my other poems recently, but I can't seem to find it... Oh well, if its a repeat, its a repeat.
You bang your fists against the sky
And cry to heaven
You try to dislodge the stars
But only bruise your hands against air
The physical manifest, but no relief
To the pain that will not go away
Bleeding on the outside is so much easier
And sometimes those scars will fade...
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