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The Truth
September 16, 2014
Do you
Ever think of me.
Were the last words, she breathed:
Relief. So much was done,
Left to another owner. To try
And fix,
The unfixable.
But-
She knew
What lingered was there
To stay. You cannot
Shake what is stuck to you.
You cannot
Shake what you are.
What you are made of.
Who you are made up of.
It killed her, to know.
There would never be an escape.
Yet
There was comfort
In knowing she was bound.
© Rachel M., Camarillo, CA
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