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my feelings are fatal.
My cousin's pregnant during a pandemic.
We're the same age. We share the same first name...
they won't ask if you're not presenting
a closed art gallery...
Last night, I had a dream
that she was dying...
This morning, she blared classical music
from the master bedroom. I know it was to...
You have band-aids on your arm again.
But they're not bandages, your skin...
"Ready for warfare?", my mind antagonizes.
"I wasn't created for battlefields", my heart insists.
My heart is sick with grenades.
Sometimes you have to work on protecting yourself more than your desire to protect others.
by Ben Pickard