Well, Emily was wrong
Hope turned out to be
featherless
The darling girl’s
corset must
Have been too tight
And caught the better
of her
For I am still too
alone
For my own good and
Deserve more than some
Delicate, fragile
feathers.
I deserve something
able to
Withstand the weight of
endless storms,
And even an apocalypse for
that matter
There’s got to be some
concrete
In the equation
somewhere
In order for things to
function
To the likes of my
bulletproof heart.
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