and in the end,
i saw it all

strewn violently across the salt flat
i had come to call home,
had laid upon, had opened my wounds to
the nature of that place, and clenched my fists
as they burned and blistered

these were my pains, my dreams
before i dragged knives
through the canvas
of my life and ground our future
to dust

it wasn’t pretty,
but i saw it all,
felt it all,
knew the wreckage of my own hand
and the agony of my sorrow,
my regret,

all too well


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