Autopsy
The pages bent over
like the skin flaps on his chest.
They revealed a troubled
heart, broken
and swollen with effort.
Incised and gutted, diary
lessons were deemed
as failure to thrive.
Reading it seemed like stolen
charity. Nothing was given,
from the empty soiled pockets
of regret.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
April 29
Posted by
vmh
at
5:59 AM
Labels: Napowrimo 2008
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