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Burnt Offerings
No place left to go.
I run through the field,
the tall grasses brushes my waist.
I run from my own demons,
and the world in it’s own trauma.
For a moment of peace,
a chance to step back.
A moment to figure out how to react,
to the push and the pull
and still you’re treated as if you are
the expendable,
the replaceable.
No more.
Enough of the disregard,
the loss of humanity
and taking that push
just to see how much
you can actually live with.
What about what you can’t
live without?
The things that make it all worth it.
Things I’ve spent too much time
trying to see how far I can
endure without.
This is it, I’m done.
I push away the drowning
senses of regret of not having done,
and guilt keeping from not
trying in the first place.
I lay down my fears
and angers in the dirt.
I ground myself in the strength of
the tree before me.
Lightning strikes.
Fire. It burns away all impurities.
All short comings.
I start anew, leaving behind
nothing but the charred, cancerous
remains of a former self.
Burnt offerings,
a sacrifice by fire
to a new beginning,
I am given.
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