deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Little Things
The Little Things
The little things
pick
at us
until we're entangled,
ensnared,
mummied,
and the life blood
is sucked out
of us.
Then they
Blame us
For being lifeless.
The little things
pick
at us
until we're entangled,
ensnared,
mummied,
and the life blood
is sucked out
of us.
Then they
Blame us
For being lifeless.
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