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  • Aleyna Petts

Mind, Body and Soul

My mind, a landfill that chokes on sorrow,

crafts a noose out of a bespoke eclipse;

chews pain, reluctant to spit or swallow,

for either way it perniciously sticks.

My body, without essence of a temple,

only a life displaced, a greed unfed;

a mosaic of scars that resemble

a deer lethally killed but not yet dead.

My soul, taken by the tide of my eyes,

occupies death row for another’s crime;

haunted by the shadow of my demise,

the end is forever near and never mine.

My self, a poem both tender and tough,

watch me descend from deity to dust –

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