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a godsend

being seventeen forever
imagine it:i’m choking on
my air
that i’ve been holding
in since
was about nine.
i want to say,
i’m grateful; not sorry
won’t be sorry anymore, not pathetic
and simpering
Perhaps you can’t accept
a policy payment
of mine.
Maybe you won’t.
You’re stubborn, i’ll give you that
so take this instead of that, my little
pieces of advice
for your take
on social anxieties and
my shortcomings;
press your fingers down on my
tattoo and braille and
i shall content myself
knowledge you gave me.

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