You
I'm having trouble breathing.No, it's not that I am out of shape.
You've taken something from me.
It can't be replaced.
My children don't respect me.
They think it is how I am treated.
That is what they see and how they know.
I'm plenty numb without the wasted words that twirl around the wheel
In my head where pains they come and go but mostly stay in years of galleries on bookshelves in my mind.
Where is my mask of fortitude
In my own way of making life's utopia
When worlds, they collide.
11-21-09
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