Signed

I want to write words that would comfort him in times of grief
But this bullet of confusion and hatred
Always seems to pierce the skin
Before I can heal myself for him.

Ragged bone and molotov cocktail religion.
I so badly need a mouth
Which has all the right collision of words
to convey what I feel.
Times of great need
Become times of greater greed.

It’s just me against me.

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