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Yesterday the rain

Yesterday the rain came,
not sky, relinquishing all of her splendor
but fists, wood, glass, skull,
the kind of relentlessness that leaves the body
fetal, the mind
barely the size of an atom.
I looked up the statistics,
analysed it against pay,
curled into a space of sound and smoke and leather
and waited for the real rain
to peel off the second skin
that comes when we all
feel afraid.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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