silently
fold paper
foolishly
fold hearts
wretchedly
fold happiness
into its tiny parts.
some hum
of honey
die like dread
sing of sickly
sticky thread
hold hearts heatedly
feel bruises burn
watch cores crumble
see sores turn
into dust
faint lust
a dizzying must
the teenager trust
the dire deep dust
a pile of dust
of skeleton dust
and bones,
that's all we are
that's all we really are
but they don't believe us--
what a fuss!
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