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My Soul Has To Deal With Me- Not You
The painted clowns face
hiding frowns in place of...what?
Smiles? Sorrow?
Do they even know what they cover?
My face-
my paint-
this smile that begs to other movements,
all for you, mother-
all for you, so undeserving-
It's not within me to withhold
gratitude-
however undeserved to the lout
and emptiness that spawned me.
I am kind for me, not for you.
My soul has to deal with me-
with truth.
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