A Stain on my Morality

dark and untreatable,

makes me want to not wear the piece.

I’ll throw it out, running naked amok

no veils, no coverage, just me and my instinct

the only place that may be true.

It’s been bawling out to me since I could think a thought:

Shrieking cosmic confusion,

desperations of despair

It rings my ears, rupturing my mask

Long before it was attached to any twisted survivals:

Pure, good, empathetic—afraid.

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