The Aftermath

Building brick walls

to climb

and pretend to fall

cutting short a lifetime

 

Bricks I haul

covered in grime

pushing back the urge to bawl

at the memories of war crimes.

 

I smile at passerbys

and give an enuthastic wave

pretending to not be shattered by

the man who dug my grave.

 

I'd rather see

the expected conclave

between myself and the galaxy

sending Earth a shockwave.

depressioneating disordereating disordersPainrhyme poetrySexual abuse

Perfectly Perfect ►

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