Smoke Circles

There is a different place inside my bones,
The walls are the same but I can’t call them
Home because home is not made of brick and
Stone, it’s made of love and love has grown

 

Out of herself, took a gun to her scalp and
Belted out a final farewell, the lament of the
Century, the creation of wishing wells, and
Profit, I think I could’ve stopped it if I had

 

Known bigger words as a littler person,
Maybe if immersion hadn’t meant making
Friends but feeling the earth and feeling the
End would probably have hurt but hurt weighs

 

Out worth and worth spins the Earth, that’s what
My grandfather told me while he smoked his pipe
No one knew how soon he’d die, the plumes of
Wisdom clogging his lungs, he couldn’t breathe

 

And I am done losing people who matter, call
Me crazy, call me the hatter, I’d wear his hats
With pride and laughter should be the semblance
Of war, not violence and gore and my little brother

 

Was just born with tiny limbs and a mighty roar,
Silenced forever with a surgeon’s knife, mistakes
Are human and the mistake was mine.

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