The crumpled pit flattened over time
opened, it reveals
infinities of insults and slights
With guilt-ridden slambacks
like goal posts every few miles, streetlights, allowing you
a Byzantine escape from
treacherous landscapes
your mother built for you.
Crumpled like a bad draft in a
waste-basket corner of your mind
seething like an old unstomped out
cigarette butt.
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