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Resentful Repentance

Tara Dole

Vibrant purge.

Black sea—

uncanny filth

swallows me.

I grasp at what I have killed.

Dubious comfort.

Blooming hate—

hungry disease

tempers fate.

Where are the days of my empty youth?

I stumble where I walk.

I clutch my dangerous breast,

seeking what is lost,

unable to digest—

What have I become?

Oozing quiet contempt

with hair a knotted mess,

watching the spread of fire

I tried so hard to repress.

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